Too Far
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! How far is too far? The Hardys are about to find out when an investigation pushes one of the boys to the extreme end of extreme.
1. Chapter One

Joe Hardy arrived at his house on the corner of High and Elm Streets a little before seven a.m. He had awoken early, as he had begun to do since the first day of summer vacation, and gone jogging. Unlike the mornings that had followed, however, Joe had to cut his run short and return early to get ready for school.  
  
He pushed his damp blond hair away from his forehead where it clung in annoying ringlets and opened the back door. He heard his mother, Laura, in the utility room, humming as she loaded the washer, and he crept through the kitchen careful not to alert her to his presence.  
  
Up the stairs he went, meeting neither his father nor brother, and slipped into his bedroom. He could hear the shower dribbling to a stop and he waited patiently for Frank to finish his morning ritual and exit into his own room before opening the door to the bathroom which connected his room with his brother's.  
  
Joe quickly disrobed and climbed into the shower. Ten minutes later he was shivering as he stepped out and grabbed a towel from the bar on the stall door. He hastily dried off and dropped the towel into the hamper before hurrying back to his room for the clothes he had forgotten to take with him. He stepped into his briefs and pulled on his jeans then reached for a long-sleeved shirt. He paused as his blue eyes fell on the figure reflected in the mirror. He could see a noticeable difference in his physique from the way he had looked at the start of summer but here it was, the first day of school, and no one had observed anything different about him. Am I doing something wrong? he wondered as he put the shirt on and buttoned it up, leaving only the top button undone.  
  
He picked out a belt and slipped it through the loops on his jeans and buckled it using the last hole available. He frowned a bit as he noticed how baggy his clothes seemed but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was wearing the oldest clothes he possessed; also the smallest. Maybe he could borrow a pair of Frank's old pants tonight without him noticing.  
  
Shrugging his shoulders as if to rid himself of some kind of funk, he finished dressing and brushed his hair. He grabbed his backpack and shoved a new notebook and a couple of pencils inside then slowly made his way downstairs to the kitchen.  
  
"Ready?" asked Joe, smiling at his brown-eyed brother, Frank, who had looked up as Joe entered the room.  
  
"Yeah," answered Frank, setting down his empty glass and rising from the breakfast table.  
  
"Joe, you haven't had breakfast yet," Laura admonished her seventeen-year-old son.  
  
"I ate before I went jogging," Joe fibbed, smiling glibly at her. "Come on, bro," Joe urged Frank, running a hand over the top of his wavy brown hair. "Don't want to be late on the first day of school."  
  
"If you don't quit that we will," snapped Frank in annoyance as he fixed the mess Joe's hand had created.  
  
"Have fun," said Fenton Hardy as the boys headed for the door.  
  
"At school?" Joe demanded, his blue eyes wide in shock as he turned back to stare at his father. "Yeah, right."  
  
Fenton laughed, his brown eyes twinkling merrily as he met the blue ones of his wife. "We'll see you later," said Frank, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder and pushing him out the door.  
  
"It will be good to see everyone again," Frank said later as he brought their van to a halt in the school parking lot. Frank's girlfriend, Callie Shaw, had gone to LA for the summer to stay with her cousin. Joe's girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, had left with her mom on a month long trip to Japan and had returned to town only last night as had Callie.  
  
Their closest friends had also gone away for the summer, Chet Morton and Biff Hooper, both seventeen, had attended football camp and Phil Cohen had gone to LA to work for his uncle's company. Tony Prito had gone with his mother to visit his grandparents in Italy. Frank and Joe had opted to spend their summer at home helping their father, a world-renowned private investigator formerly of the New York Police Department, on some of his cases.  
  
Today would be the first time they all were back together since the end of the previous school year. Joe grinned, thinking about the blond-headed beauty he had been dating steadily for some time now. All he had to do was look into her sultry blue-gray eyes and his insides turned to mush. Beside him, Frank was considering his own soft spot for a certain brown-eyed blond who had held his heart since the first day he had seen her.  
  
The two teens exited the van and made their way inside. "Frank!" blond and beefy Biff shouted, spying him entering. He hurried up to Frank along with Chet and Phil with whom he had been talking. "Long time, no see." Biff declared, grinning. "Where's that no-good brother of yours?" he teased.  
  
Normally, Frank would have gotten mad over a remark like that but Biff had been Joe's best friend since fifth grade so Frank just smiled and remained quiet as Joe answered Biff's question from his right. "Ha, ha," Joe said dryly, his expression a bit sardonic.  
  
"Hey Man!" Biff said, looking around. "I didn't see..." he broke off as he got a good look at Joe. Biff's eyebrows drew together in a concern as he frowned at the stranger before him.   
  
"Have you been sick?" inquired Phil in the quiet tone he normally maintained. His worried green eyes stared at Joe.  
  
"No," Joe denied with a nervous little laugh. "I've never felt better."  
  
Frank, confused, turned to look at Joe, taking time to observe the way he was dressed and his face, which did look a bit sunken in.  
  
"Then why have you lost so much weight?" Chet demanded, his brown eyes hard as he waited for an explanation. 


	2. Chapter Two

"I didn't realize I had," Joe lied. "Must be all of the exercise I've been getting over the summer."  
  
"But exercise would tone you," Biff pointed out. "You just look sick."  
  
"Thanks," Joe said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
"They're right," agreed Frank, his voice quiet and eyes filled with guilt. How could he not have noticed it? "You should see Dr. Bates," he added, mentioning their family physician.  
  
"I feel great!" Joe told him, his smile vanishing to be replaced with a scowl. "I don't need to see a doctor," he added, turning and leaving the group.  
  
Joe headed down the hall to his homeroom. He wore a scowl but inside he was elated. Finally! Someone noticed! He couldn't believe he had been home all summer and no one had noticed he had lost over thirty pounds. He had long since gotten over the hunger pains but recently he had been getting dizzy and in spite of the fact it was August, the hottest month of the year, he couldn't seem to get warm.  
  
"Joe, is that you?" asked Vanessa Bender, Joe's seventeen-year-old girlfriend as she stopped and turned to stare at him. She had almost passed right by him.  
  
"Of course it's me," Joe said, smiling at her. "How was Japan?" he asked.  
  
"Great," she replied, her smile wan as she looked at him in concern. "What happened to you? I hope Frank messed up the creeps who hurt you."  
  
"I haven't been hurt," Joe said. "It's been a fairly quiet summer."  
  
"Then you've been sick," she gasped. "You are getting better, aren't you?" she demanded.  
  
"I haven't been sick," Joe snapped and took off.  
  
"Easy," Callie said, coming up and putting an arm around Vanessa's shoulders. "There's Frank," she added, nodding her head in the direction of Frank, Chet, Phil, Biff and Tony Prito, who had just joined the guys. "Let's find out what's going on with Joe from him."  
  
"Why?" Tony was asking as the girls approached.  
  
"Why what?" Callie asked.  
  
"Why has Joe lost so much weight?" Chet clarified for the girls.  
  
Frank looked guilty. "I hadn't realized he had," he admitted. "I must be blind."  
  
"Don't blame yourself," Callie said, knowing where Frank was going. That was the one fault she could find with her boyfriend: he felt responsible for everything that happened to Joe. "It's harder to notice something like that when you see the person everyday."  
  
"She's right," agreed Biff. "Mom was on a diet for six months and lost twenty-two pounds and neither dad nor I had noticed until she came home from her weight watchers meeting and told us how well she was doing."  
  
"Still, he does look sick and I should have noticed something was going on with him," Frank said, scowling. "I will tell you one thing, though, he is going to see Dr. Bates before the day is out."  
  
Callie entered history class and took a seat near the front. She could see Joe four seats to her left. He looked pale and he was quieter than he had been last year. Last year he was literally the class clown, always joking and laughing, but this year it was like he was a totally different person.  
  
For once, maybe Frank is right to worry so much about Joe, thought Callie as the other students piled into the classroom and took their seats. After class, Callie waited until the other students had departed before standing up. She had decided to wait for Joe who seemed to be taking longer than usual to get his books together.  
  
Joe stood up and swayed. Callie and the teacher both noticed and raced to Joe's side, catching him before he could fall. "Go get the nurse," Mr. Kramer ordered Callie after they had lowered Joe to the floor without injury.  
  
Callie took off running. "No running in the halls," called out Mr. Barns, the vice-principal.  
  
"I have to get the nurse," Callie told him, continuing on her way.  
  
"Where's the fire?" asked Frank as Callie came streaking by.  
  
"It's Joe!" she shouted as she hurried away from him. "He passed out in Kramer's class."  
  
Frank ran down the hall and into Kramer's room and was relieved to find Joe in a sitting position. "What happened?" asked Frank kneeling down beside his brother.  
  
"He fainted," Mr. Kramer replied, keeping a hand firmly on Joe's shoulder. "Would you please tell him to stay still until the nurse arrives?" he begged Frank as Joe tried once more to shrug off Kramer's hand.  
  
"You move and I'll make sure you're grounded for a week," Frank promised as he frowned at him.  
  
"Fine," Joe said and blew a wisp of hair from his eyes.  
  
Callie and Nurse Jenkins arrived a couple of minutes later. She checked his pulse and asked how he was feeling.  
  
"I'm fine," Joe said. "If I could just stand up?" he ended with a sharp edge to his voice.  
  
"I think we should call mom and dad," Frank said, ignoring Joe. "He should see a doctor."  
  
"I don't need a doctor!" Joe shouted angrily.  
  
"I agree," Callie stated. Like Frank, she was ignoring Joe too.  
  
"Nurse Jenkins, do you think I should see a doctor?" Joe asked looking up at her slyly.  
  
"I'm calling mom and dad and we are leaving it up to them," Frank growled, shooting Joe a stern look. He knew Joe knew the school nurse wasn't allowed to give an opinion like that.  
  
"An excellent suggestion," Kramer agreed.  
  
"You can use the phone in my office," Nurse Jenkins offered.  
  
"I'll use the pay phone in the cafeteria," Frank declined the offer. "It's closer."  
  
"I can call," Joe decreed.  
  
"Joe, I want you to go to the office and wait," Kramer instructed, aware Joe could get hurt if he had another fainting spell. Like Callie and the Hardys' other friends, he had noticed a marked difference in Joe this term.  
  
Frank bit back a smile as he nodded his thanks to Mr. Kramer. "Callie, you had better get to class," Kramer continued. "Nurse Jenkins can escort Joe to the office."  
  
***  
  
Fenton and Laura arrived in less than thirty minutes. Frank had been very informative on the phone but they were having trouble imagining Joe could be as ill as Frank said when they had just seen Joe that morning and he had seemed no different.  
  
Laura and Fenton stopped just inside the office and looked at the blond headed youth who sat with his head resting against the wall not with the passing glance they so often did, but as one might look at a long lost relative. Joe was indeed a different person. They both recognized the clothes as ones he had outgrown over a year ago. They could see the jeans bunching around his thighs and their bagginess was even more astounding because it was so obvious while he sat down. They couldn't make out his chest because he wore a sweater with a collar poking through at the neck. Why was he dressed for the cold when it was in the eighties?  
  
They walked over to Joe and Laura faltered as Joe opened his eyes, which looked too big for his face. "This isn't necessary," Joe insisted as they neared, not noticing the fear that had crept into his parents' eyes as they looked at him. "I feel fine."  
  
"Humor us," Laura said softly as she smiled at her son, hiding her fear with the expertise that she had developed long ago.  
  
Fenton signed Joe out and then the three of them went to see their family doctor, Dr. Alfred Bates. After a thirty-minute wait, Joe was taken back, accompanied by Laura and Fenton, and examined. One of the nurses came in and took a blood sample and then Joe was ordered to go to the restroom and produce a specimen.  
  
While Joe was absent, Dr. Bates talked with the Hardys about Joe's condition. "He has lost a lot of weight," Dr. Bates began. "A full thirty-six pounds since his last physical," he added with a deep frown. "Has he any other symptoms?"  
  
"He fainted today in school," Laura said.  
  
"And I noticed he's wearing heavy clothes," Fenton added, frowning. "But I don't know if that means anything or not."  
  
"The clothing is probably to keep warm," Dr. Bates commented. "He's lost a lot of body fat, more than is healthy for his age and height. We won't have the results from the tests until tomorrow but I am going to give him a prescription for some vitamins. They should increase his appetite."  
  
"But if they don't?" Laura asked.  
  
"If his appetite doesn't increase of he starts vomiting or having diarrhea, bring him back. I will call you with the test results tomorrow morning. If nothing shows up then I suggest he be admitted to Bayport General for more extensive tests. Also," he added as Joe returned to the room, "no excessive exercising, Take it easy for a few days."  
  
"But football try-outs start this week," objected Joe.  
  
"Not for you, I'm afraid," Dr. Bates stated with a firm shake of his head.  
  
"But..." Joe turned to his parents but his protest died on his lips when he saw the way they were looking at him.  
  
"We'll leave you to get dressed," Dr. Bates said to Joe. "Just come on out when you're ready."  
  
Fenton stopped by the pharmacy nearest the doctor's office to get the prescription filled and then drove home. There he gave Joe one of the vitamins and Laura sent him to his room for a nap. Frank arrived home a couple of hours later.  
  
"What's wrong with Joe?" he demanded, entering the living room.  
  
"Hello to you," Laura said, rising from the sofa.  
  
"Sorry," apologized Frank. "Hi. How's Joe?"  
  
"Dr. Bates ran some tests but said he wouldn't know anything until tomorrow," Fenton answered. "He did give Joe some vitamins to take that are supposed to increase his appetite."  
  
"Are they working?" inquired Frank.  
  
"Don't know," Laura answered. "He's been asleep since we got home. But I'm making his favorite dinner and he better eat it," she continued with a smile  
  
"When will it be ready?" asked Frank. He had been so worried about Joe, he had been unable to eat his own lunch.  
  
"In about thirty minutes," Laura replied. "Joe was sleeping so soundly, I didn't have the heart to wake him for lunch so I thought we would have an early dinner."  
  
"Sounds good," Frank said, smiling. "I'll go wake him up and make him get ready."  
  
Thirty minutes later, Joe entered the dining room and took his seat. "Mmmm," he said, grinning. "Smells great!"  
  
Laura smiled and set Joe's plate in front of him. It was loaded to the brim with chicken fricassee, mashed potatoes and a huge ear of corn on the cob. Fenton set a glass of milk beside Joe's plate and handed another to Frank before sitting down.  
  
Laura set her own plate on the table, checked to make sure everyone had everything, then sat down. "I picked up your homework," Frank told Joe as they began to eat.  
  
"Great," groaned Joe as he ate. "Homework on the first day of school. It should be unconstitutional."  
  
Everyone relaxed a bit as Joe finished his dinner and requested seconds. He finished every bit of his second helpings but declined the apple pie his mom had made for dessert. "I'm stuffed," Joe apologized, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his stomach. "I can't remember when I've been so hungry."  
  
"Must be the vitamins the doctor gave you," Laura said.  
  
"Vitamins?" Joe asked. "I thought it was some kind of antibiotic."  
  
"No," Fenton said. "Dr. Bates said he wouldn't know what made you sick at least until your test results come back. The vitamins are to increase your appetite and give you added nutrition."  
  
"Oh," Joe said. "I guess I had better get started on my homework," he said as he watched Frank and his parents began their dessert. Is it in your backpack?" he asked Frank.  
  
"No," Frank answered. "I laid it on my desk."  
  
"Thanks," Joe said. "May I be excused?" he asked, looking at his mother.  
  
"Of course," she answered, pleased Joe had eaten so well. As far as she was concerned, if Joe had his appetite then there was nothing seriously wrong with him.  
  
Joe got up from the table and headed upstairs. "I think I'll make sure he's feeling all right," Fenton said, standing up. "I'll be back in a minute." He was glad Joe's appetite had returned but, unlike Laura, he didn't think one meal meant he was better. There was something causing Joe to lose weight and until they found out for sure what was wrong with Joe and how to make him better he was going to keep a close eye on his youngest son.  
  
Fenton went upstairs and rapped lightly on Joe's door. Receiving no answer, he opened it and went inside. The bathroom door was open and he saw Joe standing over the toilet. He started to turn and leave so Joe could have his privacy but stopped as astonishment took over. He watched flabbergasted as Joe put his forefinger down his throat, gagged, and began to heave his dinner into the toilet! 


	3. Chapter Three

Fenton started toward the bathroom, his anger driven by fear. What could possess Joe to make himself throw-up when he was already so thin? Fenton stopped as Joe finished throwing up and turned to the sink and reached for his toothbrush. No, it would do no good to confront Joe with it now. He was too angry and he would not have a confrontation until he had calmed down. He turned and left Joe alone, closing Joe's door behind him.  
  
"Is he all right?" Laura asked as Fenton returned to the dining room.  
  
"What is it?" demanded Frank. Unlike his mother, he had noticed something amiss in the way his dad had entered the room. It was something about his walk; the set of his face.  
  
"Joe was throwing up," Fenton answered in a strangled whisper.  
  
"We better get him to the hospital," Laura said, rising to her feet at once. "Dr. Bates said..." She broke off as Fenton shook his head at her.  
  
"He wasn't really sick," Fenton informed his wife and son. "He was making himself throw up."  
  
"What?" gasped Frank in astonishment. "Why would he do that?"  
  
"I don't know," Fenton admitted, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "But I am going to call Dr. Bates and see what he says," he added, turning and leaving the room without sitting down to finish his dessert.  
  
Frank put his fork down and stood up. He headed out the door on his father's heels without noticing his mother was right behind him. Frank sat down on the sofa as his father picked up the phone and dialed the doctor's home number. The number was unlisted, but Dr. Bates had treated the Hardy brothers since they were six and seven, respectively, and grown used to the unexpected where they were concerned. He had given Fenton and Laura his home number and told them to call him anytime, day or night, should he be needed.  
  
"Alvin, this is Fenton Hardy," Fenton said when Dr. Bates answered. "It's Joe," he continued, getting right to the point. "He ate dinner but then he threw it up." Fenton paused while the doctor spoke. "No, he didn't get pale or even ill," Fenton tried to explain. "Joe made himself throw up." Again, Fenton was quiet for a bit. "Yes, of course. Thank you."  
  
"Well?" Laura demanded when Fenton hung up the receiver.  
  
"He wants us to make sure Joe gets another vitamin in the morning, eats breakfast and lunch, and is not left alone for any length of time during the day," Fenton repeated the doctor's instructions. "We aren't to give him time to make himself sick again."  
  
"That's it?" demanded Frank. There had to be something wrong with Joe. He wouldn't just make himself throw up for no reason!   
  
"He wants to see us in his office tomorrow after school," Fenton added. "One of the tests came back negative but he still has to wait for the others. He also suggested we weigh Joe tonight and again in the morning before and after breakfast. And he wants Joe's blood pressure taken tonight and in the morning before he leaves for school."  
  
"Why?" Frank asked.  
  
Fenton shrugged. "I don't know," he confessed, wishing he had thought to ask. "But he said to write the numbers down and bring them with us tomorrow afternoon."  
  
Fenton went upstairs to make Joe weigh and take his blood pressure while Laura went back to the dining room to clear the table and do the dishes. Frank went to his father's office and began calling his friends and asking for their help in keeping an eye on Joe the next day at school.  
  
The next morning, Fenton weighed Joe, checked his blood pressure and gave Joe his vitamin. "Why do I have to be weighed after breakfast?" demanded Joe. "For that matter, why do I have to be weighed at all? I know I'm fat, you don't have to know how fat," he declared in a bitter voice.  
  
"Joe, wherever did you get the idea you were fat?" Fenton asked in a shock-filled voice.  
  
"I was outgrowing all of my clothes," Joe answered with a shrug. He hoped that would be a good enough reason. He had read up on anorexia and knew all the victims felt fat regardless of how much they really weighed or what they looked like. He knew too, that the disease was a mental one. People, girls mostly, felt that they had no control over their own lives and chose to control the only thing they could...their eating.  
  
When he had started, he knew the mental aspect of the disease was going to be the hardest bit to pull off. As a detective, his parents had given him more control than he felt he even deserved at times. His brother was his anchor in many cases; reigning him in before he did something totally stupid. He only hoped the actual weight loss would be enough to convince his family. If he could pretend to be short-tempered that might help them believe he had the disease as well.  
  
He had nearly blown it last night. He had been so incredibly hungry he couldn't have quit eating if he had tried. When he found out it was the vitamin that had made him so ravenous he had vowed not to take another one. When his father handed him the vitamin this morning and a glass of water, Joe had palmed the pill and polished off the water. Of course, eating last night had proven helpful in his deception. He had heard his father say he was going to check on him and had hurried up the stairs and into the bathroom. He had waited until he heard the door start to open before shoving his finger down his throat.  
  
He hated throwing up but in the information he had read he had learned that some, if not most, of the victims of anorexia also suffered from bulimia where the person would binge and then vomit to rid themselves of the calories. Showing his dad that he was doing this to himself instead of having a disease that made him lose weight was the only thing he could think of to push the issue ahead. Surely when they told Dr. Bates he would recognize the symptoms.  
  
He needed things to move more quickly than they had been. After last night's dinner, he was now feeling hunger pangs once again. And, unlike when he had first started starving himself, these were exceptionally strong. If his parents didn't get him admitted to the clinic soon, he may have to give up and to him that was unacceptable. He had promised he would investigate the matter and he would. But he had to be an inmate. There was no other way for him to get inside because he knew his family nor friends would ever let him go to this extreme for a mystery.  
  
"Joe, you're not fat," Fenton told him, his voice breaking. Joe did this to himself because he thought he was too fat?! "You have never been fat. And even if you thought you were before and wanted to lose a little weight, why haven't you quit now? You're way too thin."  
  
"It's my life!" shouted Joe. "If I want to lose weight, I will!"  
  
"You will not lose anymore weight and that is final!" thundered Fenton as if saying it would make it so. "You will march yourself down to the kitchen, sit down, and eat the breakfast your mother has prepared."  
  
"Like hell, I will!" Joe screamed. He ran down the steps and out the front door before anyone could stop him. 


	4. Chapter Four

"Frank!" Fenton shouted. "Go after him," he ordered when Frank came hurrying out of his office.  
  
Frank took off, snatching his backpack from the floor by the door on his way out. "Wait up!" shouted Frank, seeing Joe halfway down the street. "It's a long way to school!" he added as Joe kept running.  
  
Joe ignored Frank's first shout but when he was reminded how far away school was he slowed down. Even though he hadn't done anything today he was tired. Realizing he probably wouldn't be able to make it to school on foot he turned around and headed back home.  
  
Frank climbed behind the wheel of the van relieved he wasn't going to have to chase Joe down. He waited until Joe had climbed in before starting the motor. "What happened?" asked Frank, glancing at Joe out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Nothing," answered Joe, looking out the window with a scowl.  
  
"We're just worried about you," Frank said after a few minutes of silence.  
  
"I'm fine," Joe said. "You're worrying for nothing."  
  
"Then why have you lost so much weight?" reasoned Frank. "Why are you wearing sweatshirts when it's in the eighties?" he demanded, looking at Joe's attire after stopping at a stop sign.  
  
"Leave me alone," Joe replied, not having an answer for him.  
  
"Not going to happen," Frank warned him with a shake of his head. "Until we know what's wrong with you and you're on your way to getting better, I am going to be with you all the time."  
  
Joe smirked. "Won't your teachers miss you in your classes?"  
  
"Oh, ha-ha," Frank retorted, too worried to get mad.  
  
When they arrived at school, Joe jumped out of the van and was on his way inside before Frank had time to kill the ignition.  
  
"Joe!" Vanessa shouted, seeing him enter the school. She hadn't been home when Frank called but Biff had told her as soon as she arrived on campus. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Joe demanded huffily. He saw Vanessa's hurt expression and was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "And I'm fine. There's no need to worry about me. Honest," he assured her.  
  
"Oh. yeah?" asked Vanessa, tossing her long blond hair over one shoulder. "Then why haven't you called me or asked me out since I got home?"  
  
Joe's eyes widened in shock. "I'm sorry, Babe," he apologized. "I meant to call you last night but I fell asleep."  
  
"That's okay," she said softly, aware he was sick even though he wouldn't admit it. "You're forgiven as long as you take me out tonight."  
  
"It's a date," promised Joe. "But we will probably have to double with Frank and Callie," he added. "Frank's being a real pain."  
  
"He just worries about you," Vanessa defended him.  
  
"I know," Joe quickly agreed, pleased she and his brother got along so well. "But I am okay."  
  
***  
  
"Where's Joe?" asked Frank, sitting down at the lunch table between Callie and Phil.  
  
"I don't now," Chet said, frowning. "He was right in front of me as we were leaving geography and then he was gone."  
  
"Did you look for him?" demanded Frank.  
  
Chet nodded. "I looked at his locker, in some of the classrooms, and I even checked the bathrooms."  
  
"If Joe doesn't want to be found, he won't be," Phil said reasonably. "He'll be in his next class though."  
  
"Yeah, without lunch," grumbled Frank.  
  
"Forcing him to eat isn't going to work," Tony said. "He'll just make himself puke again."  
  
"Not if we don't give him the opportunity," Frank pointed out.  
  
"You can't watch him twenty-four seven," Callie told him.  
  
"I know," Frank admitted, running a hand through his brown locks. "If we could only figure out why he is doing this to himself then maybe we could get him to stop."  
  
"What did the doctor say?" Chet asked.  
  
"Just to keep an eye on him and monitor his weight and blood pressure. He has another appointment after school. Maybe we will learn something then," Frank said hopefully.  
  
***  
  
Joe did show up for his last two classes but never said where he had disappeared to at lunch. When the final bell rang, Frank was waiting outside Joe's Spanish class. "That was fast," Joe commented.  
  
"Mr. Thompson let me leave a couple of minutes early," explained Frank as they made their way out to the parking lot.  
  
When they arrived at Dr. Bates office they found their parents already waiting. After a few minutes, Joe was sent to one of the examination rooms. After a brief exam, Dr. Bates left Joe to get dressed and told him he would be back. Dr. Bates closed the door as he exited and went to the door separating the waiting room from the actual office and asked the Hardys to accompany him.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" inquired Laura once they were all seated.  
  
Dr. Bates leaned back in his chair, his usual cheery countenance absent as he surveyed the worried faces before him. "First," he began, "let me tell you that all of the tests I ran on Joe came back negative except for two. Those two reveal that Joe is anemic and malnourished, which was obvious to begin with.  
  
"His blood pressure is lower than normal and his weight loss, as you have noticed, is becoming critical," the doctor continued. "It's his weight loss that has caused the low blood pressure and anemia. If he continues as he is going, he will show added signs of malnourishment including scurvy and rickets."  
  
"But what's causing the weight loss?" Fenton asked, still perplexed because Joe had made himself ill last night.  
  
"Have you ever heard of a disease called anorexia nervosa?" Dr. Bates inquired. 


	5. Chapter Five

"What's that?" Laura asked with a puzzled expression.  
  
"It's a mental disorder that normally affects females but about ten percent of the victims are male," Dr. Bates explained.  
  
"A mental disorder?" repeated Frank, looking as befuddled as his mother. "Is it caused by a chemical imbalance of something?"  
  
"Possibly," Dr Bates stated. "The disease is still under investigation," he continued. "The cause isn't certain but it's been hypothesized that the disease afflicts those who feel they have no control over their own lives so they take charge of the only thing they can control absolutely: their own bodies."  
  
"But Joe has control over things," Laura insisted. "He makes his own decisions."  
  
"Don't take this the wrong way," Dr. Bates begged. "But in Joe's case, maybe his sense of loss of control has to do with his chosen vocation. I mean, he has been through a lot and he is only seventeen years old. Perhaps he feels he has no control over events that are going on around him."  
  
Fenton wanted to argue, but he couldn't. Dr. Bates had made a valid point. While no one can control life's everyday ups and downs, Joe did have many more downs than most.   
  
"How do we make him better?" Laura asked.  
  
"We can't," Dr. Bates replied gently. "We can watch him and make sure he takes his vitamins, eats, and rests but these are only temporary measures. Since it is a mental disease," he continued, "he will need to start therapy. And I want to see him at least once a week."  
  
"What can we do?" asked Frank.  
  
"Make sure he swallows his vitamins. Have him eat something for breakfast and lunch even if it's only lettuce. For dinner, see that he has something from each of the basic food groups and don't leave him alone. If he vomits up what he eats then it not only isn't helping him but it might even complicate matters. Also, limit his physical activities. No more sports until his weight comes up and no workout. Just light jogging and normal, everyday activities."  
  
"What if he starts to get worse?" Fenton asked.  
  
"There is a place that deals exclusively with anorexic patients," Dr. Bates informed them. "It's located in Bridgeport but if it reaches that stage, Joe would have to be admitted as a resident and visitation is limited."  
  
***  
  
"That took long enough," Joe complained as they exited the office building.  
  
"Well, we will all go home and have a good dinner," Laura said, trying to pretend everything was normal. "You'll feel better after you've eaten."  
  
"I feel fine," Joe declared, scowling. "And I've got a date."  
  
"Not tonight," Laura disagreed with him. "Until you start gaining weight you will have all your meals, except for lunch, at home."  
  
"That's not fair!" Joe objected, turning to glare at her.  
  
"Fair or not, that is how it's going to be," Laura stated firmly, her blue eyes clashing with his.   
  
"Invite Vanessa over," Frank suggested. "She won't mind."  
  
"But I do," Joe argued. "Why am I being punished?" he demanded, turning on his father.   
  
"You aren't being punished," Fenton denied in a voice that was forced calm. "We're doing this for your own good."  
  
"Puhlezz," scoffed Joe.  
  
"Believe what you will," Fenton told him. "But you will do as you are told."  
  
At home, Joe called Vanessa to cancel their date then went upstairs to his room and closed the door only to have it opened before he had even crossed the room to his bed.  
  
"You need to take your vitamin now," Fenton said as Joe spun around to face him.  
  
"I took one this morning," Joe reminded him.  
  
"Twice a day," Fenton countered, holding out the offering.  
  
With eyes flashing and lips set into a thin line, Joe gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Can I put something on first?" he asked. "I'm cold."  
  
The wrinkles between Fenton's eyes deepened as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He gave a slow nod and then went into the bathroom and got a small cup of water for Joe to take with his pill. When he came back out Joe was sitting on his bed wearing a green sweater over the sweatshirt he had already been wearing.  
  
"Swallow this," Fenton said, handing Joe the vitamin.  
  
Joe took it and glared at his father. "You don't have to watch me like I'm some sort of criminal, you know," he said.  
  
"I wish that were true," Fenton said softly in a breaking voice.  
  
Joe almost broke down and confessed but he was so close now he knew he had to be strong. He put the pill in his mouth, sticking his tongue out to show his dad it was on his tongue, then took the water and emptied the cup.  
  
"Open up," ordered Fenton.  
  
"Why?" Joe demanded.  
  
"Open," Fenton repeated more sternly. Joe opened his mouth. "Move your tongue." Doing as ordered, the vitamin popped into view. "Swallow it," Fenton ordered.  
  
Not having a choice, Joe swallowed the vitamin and once again opened his mouth for inspection.  
  
"Hi," Frank said, coming into the room.  
  
"Why aren't you getting ready for your date?" asked Joe bitterly. "You're not under house arrest."  
  
"Joe..." Fenton began but quit speaking when Joe turned away from him.  
  
Frank came over and put a comforting hand on his father's shoulder. He knew how hard this was for him and could only imagine how his parents felt. His father, especially, since it had been suggested that solving mysteries may be at the root of Joe's problem. "I didn't have one," Frank fibbed to Joe. "I forgot to ask Callie before today and she had already made plans to do something with her parents."  
  
Joe seemed to have developed an avid interest in a lint ball on his bedspread and was ignoring Frank now as well as his father. Frank looked at his dad and indicated he should leave the room. Fenton did so knowing Frank would not let Joe have a chance to throw-up the vitamin he had just taken. Joe heard the door close and stood up, He froze when he saw Frank was still there.  
  
"Want to play some Monopoly?" asked Frank.  
  
"Sure, whatever," agreed Joe without any enthusiasm. "But I need to go to the bathroom first."  
  
"Okay," agreed Frank although he started to follow Joe into the restroom.  
  
"Do you mind?" demanded Joe, rounding on Frank with his eyes blazing. "A little privacy, huh?"  
  
"Sorry," Frank replied with a shake of his head. "No can do."  
  
"What? Why?" erupted Joe. "Have you turned into some kind of perv or something?"  
  
"You aren't going to make yourself sick," Frank stated firmly.  
  
"I just need to pee," Joe said. Frank looked down at his feet but did not move away. "Frank?" Joe asked, his voice almost a whisper. "Don't you trust me?"  
  
Frank looked back up and into Joe's eyes. "I'm sorry, Baby Brother," Frank said softly, his soulful brown eyes reflecting his own hurt and disillusionment. 


	6. Chapter Six

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Joe hadn't said a word since Frank's revelation upstairs. All he could think was that maybe he had gone too far. Should he have told Frank about the request? No. Frank would never have considered investigating the matter and there was no way he would ever have accepted Joe's plan for getting in the Wesley Lane Smith Foundation in Bridgeport.  
  
"Here you go, baby," Laura said as she set a plate in front of him.  
  
Joe's stomach rolled as the aroma from the plate reached his nostrils. He was so hungry he could faint but he was way too close to cave in now.  
  
"You will eat everything on your plate before you leave this table," Fenton ordered him.  
  
Joe bristled at the tone. His dad was talking to him like he was a criminal! "I can't eat all of this!" Joe objected, his eyes widening.  
  
"Actually, that might be pushing it," Frank put in looking at the amount of food on Joe's plate. "If he eats too much to start with he might get sick without help."  
  
Joe's eyes lit up and he started eating; not observing the sly look Frank shot his mother as his father smothered a smile and began eating his own dinner.  
  
Joe finished his meal and laid his fork down. "May I be excused now?" he asked.  
  
"Me too?" asked Frank, setting his fork down also although he hadn't really finished.  
  
"You may," Fenton agreed.  
  
"Want to play that game we never did before dinner?" asked Frank.  
  
Joe shook his head. "I have homework."  
  
"It's Friday," Frank objected with a frown. Joe never did homework on a weekend before Sunday night!  
  
Joe shrugged. "Might as well get it over with," he said, going into his room with Frank on his heels. "Look, would you please just give me a little time alone?" he pleaded. Frank shook his head. "I'll leave the door open and the one to the bathroom," he tried to compromise.  
  
"Sorry, Joe," Frank replied with a firm shake of his head. "Either I dog you or Dad will," he continued. "Your choice."  
  
Joe rolled his eyes but didn't say another word. He picked up his backpack and put it on his bed and pulled out his books. Frank took a book from one of Joe's bookcases and sat down in a chair in the corner of the room.  
  
"Bed time," said Laura entering the room some time later. "Joseph, honey," she continued, her voice a bit hesitant as she began to say something she had to say but didn't really want too. "We need to take your blood pressure and weigh you."  
  
Joe allowed himself to be checked by his family then he got ready for bed. When he and Frank exited the bathroom he saw the folding bed had been set up between his bed and the bathroom.  
  
"Is this really necessary?" demanded Joe. "I took my vitamin and ate my dinner. I even let you weigh me. I'm trying to get better," he fibbed.  
  
"Joe, we wish it were that easy," Laura said. "But we know you only ate your dinner because Frank tricked you."  
  
"What?" Joe gasped, turning to glare at him.  
  
Frank shrugged. "You ate dinner yesterday and didn't get sick until you made yourself throw up," he explained. "So there was no reason why you would get sick tonight."  
  
Without another word Joe climbed in his bed and pulled the covers up. He turned his back on his mom and brother and shut his eyes.  
  
********************************************************  
  
Frank jerked to a sitting position, his eyes focusing quickly on the light streaming from beneath the bathroom door. "Blast it!" he hissed, jumping out of bed. He grabbed the knob on the bathroom door and turned it as he pushed it open. He saw Joe straighten up and wipe his mouth then turn to look at him.  
  
Frank leaned against the doorframe, his eyes bright as he looked into the surprised eyes of his little brother. Frank swallowed but didn't say anything and after a minute of silence with neither boy looking away, Frank turned and went back to bed.  
  
**************************************  
  
The next morning when Joe came downstairs Frank had already informed his parents of Joe's nocturnal activities. After his vitamin, weigh-in and blood pressure check, he had a piece of toast for breakfast and a glass of water. One more weigh-in and then the boys left to meet their friends at the Museum of Arts; a trip they had planned via e-mail over the summer.   
  
"Fenton, what are we going to do?" Laura asked her husband as she stood at the window and watched them leave.  
  
"Keep trying," he replied, pulling her back into him and wrapping his arms around her. He buried his head in her hair, needing her strength as much as she needed his. "He'll get better. He has too," he whispered fiercely.  
  
*********************************  
  
Vanessa let out a relieved sigh when she saw Joe get out of the van. She had become even more worried about him after he had canceled their date the previous evening. "You made it!" she exclaimed, going over and kissing his cheek lightly.  
  
Joe shivered at the contact. "Yeah," he said. "As long as Frank is with me, mom and dad will let me have a little freedom."  
  
"This is going to be fun," Callie said brightly. "I'm glad we are doing this." She giggled. "I found out Mr. Kincaid is going o send his history class here and have us do a report for extra credit."  
  
"How did you find that out?" Frank inquired in surprise.  
  
"Stacey overheard him and Mrs. Hash talking about it yesterday after school," Callie answered, leaning up and kissing him soundly.  
  
"Cut it out, you two," Phil growled good-naturedly as he and Chet joined the group. "Let's get going," he said. "I'm dying to check out the new exhibit in the west wing."  
  
The teens paid their admission and entered the museum. Joe walked along with his brother and friends, his attention straying from their conversation. At first, he was fascinated by the vast array of splendor presented in the early Chinese exhibit in the west wing but as time wore on, he lost interest.  
  
"What do you think?" Vanessa asked, touching his arm.   
  
"Excuse me?" asked Joe. He hadn't been listening and was taken completely off guard.  
  
"About the depiction on the rug?" Frank filled him in with a frown.  
  
"What rug?" Joe asked looking down.  
  
"Joe..." Frank began, worried because the rug was on the wall right in front of them.  
  
"I need to go to the restroom," Joe said before Frank could continue. "I'll be back in a bit."  
  
"Me too," put in Chet, figuring Frank could use a little break.  
  
"I don't need a babysitter!" Joe screamed. Before Chet could recover from the outburst, Joe had taken off at a run.  
  
"Joe!" Frank shouted and took off after him, coming to an abrupt halt as he rounded the corner and saw his brother lying in a crumpled heap only a few feet away. 


	7. Chapter Seven

"Joe!" gasped Frank, falling to his knees beside Joe's still form. Frank checked for a pulse. It was faint but at least there was one. He pulled out his cell phone and called an ambulance. He was talking to his dad when Vanessa, Callie, Phil and Chet came up behind him. They had decided to go looking for the two boys in case they needed a buffer.  
  
"Is he?" Callie asked hesitantly as a crowd began to gather.  
  
"No," Frank replied, looking up at them. "Callie, would you wait at the entrance for the paramedics? Vanessa, go find someone who works here and guys, keep everyone back, huh?"  
  
The ambulance arrived about ten minutes later and Joe was given a quick check before being loaded onto a stretcher. An hour after that, the Hardys were sitting in the emergency waiting room at Bayport General. Frank had insisted his friends remain at the museum and they had agreed after Frank had promised to call Phil's cell just as soon as he knew something.  
  
"How is he?" demanded Laura as Dr. Bates came into the room. He had been at the hospital checking on a patient when Joe had been brought in.  
  
"He's been put on an IV," Dr. Bates began. "He has lost another pound since yesterday and his blood pressure as well as his blood sugar is extremely low."  
  
"That's because he won't keep any food down," Frank said and told him about last night's failure.  
  
"I think, perhaps, you should consider the foundation in Bridgeport," Dr. Bates suggested. "Before he reaches the point of no return."  
  
"You mean before he dies," Frank commented and noticed Dr. Bates did not disagree.  
  
"This isn't going to go over well with Joe," Laura said.  
  
"He's given us no choice," Fenton told her.  
  
"I know," she said softly as a tear slipped down the side of her face. "I know," she added even more softly.  
  
*************************************************************  
  
Joe opened his eyes and looked around the room he was in. There was no window except for the small one on the door that was closed. There was no other entry or exit to the room; not even a bathroom. Nor was there a portable potty in his room.  
  
Where am I? he wondered, sitting up. The room felt comfortable even though he wore only a loose gown. He got shakily to his feet and walked to the door. Locked.  
  
He lifted his hand and made a fist and pounded on the door. "Hey! Open up!" he shouted but no one came. After a couple of minutes Joe gave up and returned to his bed.  
  
Almost two hours later his door opened and in walked a tall, heavyset man with wispy black tendrils and bushy black brows that overshadowed his deep green eyes. Dr. Dean Holden went to Joe's bedside and looked at the sickly youth that was sitting up and staring at him with curious blue eyes. "Hello, Joe," he said. "I am Dr. Holden."  
  
"You're in the Wesley Lane Smith Foundation for anorexic patients in Bridgeport," Dr. Holden informed him. "Before you begin snarling and spitting let me tell you about our rules which will be followed without exception."  
  
Joe eyed the doctor warily. His tone was one that Mr. Arnold, the vice-principal, had used the one time he had been placed in detention. He supposed authority might be the best way to deal with anorexic patients but he wasn't really one and his speech raised the hackles on Joe's back.  
  
"All meals will be consumed or you will be force-fed," Dr. Holden began. "You are not to leave this room without a member of the staff to accompany you. You will take all medication given you and you will not make yourself throw up. If any of these rules are broken you will be confined to your bed and placed on an IV where you will receive whatever we deem necessary."  
  
"That's a little harsh," objected Joe in a meek voice.  
  
"Also," continued the doctor as if Joe had not spoken. "You will, beginning tomorrow, have a session with our resident psychiatrist, Dr. Feldman, with a minimum time limit of one hour."  
  
Joe bit his bottom lip and nodded his head in acknowledgement of the rules. He had the feeling anything he said would either be ignored or used as an excuse to initiate said ultimatum.  
  
Accepting Joe's silence as cooperation, Dr. Holden smiled. "Now that's out of the way, I am going to give you a physical and see where you are at the present. Our records are comprehensive," he continued. "And that means you will be weighed before and after each meal and before lights out and again first thing in the morning."  
  
"Why so many times?" inquired Joe. "That's even more than my doctor wanted."  
  
"We are a research facility," Dr, Holden explained. "We not only want to help victims of the disease but we want to cure, and if possible, prevent it. Our scales measure your weight to the gram and we can see when you lose or gain any amount of weight and what stimulus may have caused the fluctuation."  
  
When Dr. Holden finished poking and prodding Joe, he smiled. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?" he asked.  
  
Joe rolled his eyes as he crawled back under the cover. "I believe your family is waiting to see you," Dr. Holden said. "I need to speak with your parents for a few minutes but I will send your brother straight in. Visitation is limited to two visits per week and only by family members. Visitation is normally on Mondays and Thursdays, however, we do allow our patients the opportunity to say goodbye when they are admitted." With these words Dr. Holden left the room.  
  
When Frank entered a couple of minutes later Joe's face broke into a big smile. "Forget it!" snapped Frank. "Don't even try to talk me into getting you out of here."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it," Joe assured him. "Not after all the time and effort I put into getting admitted."  
  
"What?" a dumb-founded Frank demanded. "What are you talking about? No!" he added quickly, holding up a hand. "I don't want to hear it. You're too good at talking your way out of things but it isn't going to work this time."  
  
"Seriously," Joe said, his expression matching his tone. "I wanted to get put in here. I had to be."  
  
"Had to be?" Frank repeated with a snort. "I know. You have to be here. You're killing yourself but I never thought you would admit it."  
  
"No, I'm not," Joe denied earnestly. "Not really. I knew you nor mom or dad would let me lose enough weight to be admitted here so I had to do it without telling you."  
  
"Telling me what?" Frank asked with suspicion.  
  
"Someone in here is a murderer," Joe answered. "I had to pretend to be sick so I could get here to investigate."  
  
"Nice try, Baby Brother," Frank congratulated him with a hint of sarcasm. "But it isn't going to wash. You're staying."  
  
"And I want too," insisted Joe. "But now that I'm in, I am going to need some help with this case."  
  
"There is no case," Frank ground out through clenched teeth. "You're just saying this so we'll pull you out of here."  
  
"No, I'm not," Joe denied again with a shake of his fair head. "Look, Crystal Lane was murdered in here last May," he said. "Her aunt asked me to find out who killed her and stop him before he killed anyone else."  
  
"Oh, please," scoffed Frank, his utter disbelief imprinted on his features. "Why would someone ask you, only you, to find her niece's killer?" he demanded reasonably. "Why not ask Dad, or at least me too?"  
  
"Because it was Charity," Joe stated in a hushed voice. 


	8. Chapter Eight

"Charity?" Frank repeated, his mouth falling open. "You nearly killed yourself because of Charity?!"  
  
"No," Joe denied. "Look, I admit that this was a drastic way to get in here but it was the only way and I knew you and mom and dad would never have allowed me to do it."  
  
"You got that right!" Frank agreed vehemently.  
  
"Would you please keep your voice down?" hissed Joe.  
  
"Joe, she is one of the bad guys, remember? If she put you up to this then she did it to hurt you," Frank told him.  
  
"What kind of an idiot do you take me for?" demanded Joe huffily. Frank quirked an eyebrow. Scowling, Joe continued. "I did some checking. Crystal Lane, the daughter of Michael Lane and his wife, Faith, was an inmate here. She was actually improving and looking forward to going home, according to Charity. But one day, after the last visit from her parents, she allegedly committed suicide."  
  
"It's possible," Frank murmured, his face still showing remnants of disbelief.  
  
"Is it?" countered Joe. "Look around. This room is like a prison. I'm not allowed to go anywhere without a member of the staff to accompany me."  
  
"Maybe she saved the medicine she was given and..." Frank broke off as Joe shook his head.  
  
"Uh-uh," Joe stated. He told Frank what Dr. Holden had told him. "Kind of strict, don't cha think?"  
  
"Not really," disagreed Frank. "If the other patients are anything like you, I can see the need for those kind of measures."  
  
"Frank, I am not anorexic," Joe stated firmly, willing his brother to believe him. "I just did what I read was typical behavior for someone who was."  
  
"Joe, I don't know what to believe anymore," Frank said, running a hand through his brown mane. "But I do know you're sick. If you did this to yourself because of some case then, well...you're still sick."  
  
"Okay," Joe confessed. "I admit I may have gone too far but I promised Charity we would find out who killed her niece."  
  
"We?"  
  
"Only one of us needs to be an inmate," Joe explained. "You can get a job here."  
  
"You're serious?" demanded Frank, beginning to believe Joe might be telling the truth.  
  
"Please?" pleaded Joe. "I can't do this alone and besides, you can keep an eye on me if you do." Joe grinned because he knew he had Frank hooked.  
  
Frank knew it too. "Okay," he relented. "But if you really were faking it you will start eating again."  
  
"I will," Joe promised. "But I can't eat too much to begin with or they will get suspicious."  
  
"What if I sneak something in?" asked Frank.  
  
"Would you?" Joe readily agreed with the suggestion. "Truth be told, I'm starving."  
  
*********************************************************  
  
Frank waited until he and his parents had returned home to tell them what Joe had told him. As expected, his father hit the roof.  
  
"I'll kill him!" Fenton exclaimed, his brown eyes smoldering.  
  
"You'll have to wait your turn," Laura snapped. "If he really has been faking it and making himself sick for some mystery he will be grounded for the rest of his life!"  
  
"For a mystery," Fenton latched onto the word, shaking his head. "I guess Dr. Bates was right. Joe is sick because of his chosen vocation."  
  
"But he said he wasn't really sick," Frank reminded them.  
  
"Frank, even if your brother isn't anorexic, he is still sick. He could have died. He may still die and all because of a case," Fenton ended bitterly.  
  
"When this mystery is over and Joe is back home, that's it," Laura stated firmly. "No more. Not until after high school at the earliest."  
  
"What?" demanded Frank hoarsely. He was being punished because of Joe's stupidity?  
  
"Your mother is right," Fenton concurred. "This will be the last mystery you and your brother work on." 


	9. Chapter Nine

"I'm going to see what I can find out about the foundation," Fenton said.  
  
"I'll call the guys and let them know how Joe's doing," Frank said.  
  
"No," Laura said. "It's Saturday night," she explained when he looked at her in surprise. "They are probably at Mr. Pizza. Go on and see your friends. They deserve more than a phone call."  
  
Frank nodded. "Thanks," he said, leaving.  
  
"Laura?" Fenton asked after Frank departed. "Are you okay?"  
  
Laura nodded. "This has been harder on Frank than on us," she said. "But neither your nor I are in any condition to offer him the kind of support he needs right now. It's good he has friends who do."  
  
Fenton patted her shoulder then headed upstairs to his office leaving Laura alone. She waited until she heard his door close then broke down crying.  
  
*****************************************************  
  
"Frank!" exclaimed Callie, leaping to her feet as he approached. "I didn't expect to see you tonight. How's Joe?"  
  
'How's Joe?' he wondered. 'Where to begin?' Frank sat down in the chair Chet pulled from another table and looked at his friends, his expression more than a bit forlorn. "He's in the Wesley Lane Smith foundation for victims of anorexia in Bridgeport," he informed everyone. "But he claims he isn't really sick. He said he only lost all that weight so he could become a patient there."  
  
"That doesn't make any sense," Biff stated, frowning.  
  
"He said someone asked him to investigate the murder of her niece who was a patient there," Frank explained.  
  
"Sounds like he thinks you won't let him stay there if you think he might get into trouble," Callie suggested. "Maybe it's just a ploy to get you and your parents to take him out."  
  
"She's right," agreed Vanessa. "I mean, why wouldn't Joe tell you about it before now? It had to have taken him all summer to get that thin."  
  
"He knew the last week of school," Frank said. "And he never told me because he said I would never have let him do that to himself. And he's right. I told mom and dad about it. They said after this is over we are grounded from solving mysteries until after high school."  
  
"That's awful!" Callie exclaimed.  
  
"I know," agreed Frank. "But they are right. Joe went too far this time. He should never have endangered himself this way."  
  
"You sound like you believe there is a case," Vanessa observed. Frank nodded. "Why?" she asked. "Why would someone ask Joe for help that way and not you or your dad?"  
  
"Because we know the woman whose niece was killed," answered Frank. "She's one of the FBI's most wanted but she kind of has a soft spot for Joe."  
  
"Excuse me?" sputtered Phil. "How did that happen?"  
  
"Joe and I have had the displeasure to cross paths with her a couple of times," Frank explained. "She's saved his life a few times but then, she's also nearly gotten him killed too."  
  
"Maybe she lied to him so he would do something like this," Chet suggested. "I mean, if Joe kills himself she can't be blamed."  
  
Frank shook his head. "Joe doesn't completely trust her either," he said. "And anyway, Dad is checking out everything tonight. If what Joe said is true, Ill be getting a job there as an orderly or a janitor."  
  
*************************************************  
  
Joe was roused from his sleep by a large man with a deep black beard and eyes almost as black as coal. "Time to get up," he was told.   
  
Joe sat up and stretched then stood up and went with the man out the door and down the hall. Joe had been unconscious when he was admitted so this was his first glimpse of the place.  
  
It wasn't too much different from a hospital except the nurses wore jeans as did the orderlies and there were no waiting rooms. The man who had awoken Joe took his arm and led him to a small room that held an examination table, scales, and a desk. Here, Joe was weighed and his blood pressure and temperature were taken and the numbers written down on his file.  
  
Joe looked at the nametag of the man who was writing down the information. Rimes. "Ready for a shower?" Rimes asked, lying the pen down and turning back to look at Joe.  
  
Joe nodded and Rimes led him out of the room and down the hall to a bathroom which had four stalls, four sinks and four showers. "How many patients do you have?" asked Joe.  
  
"Does it matter?" Rimes countered.  
  
"No," Joe admitted, acting intimidated. "I was just wondering because this isn't very big."  
  
"We can house forty patients," Rimes informed Joe. "Although, there are only nineteen, including yourself, at the present."  
  
"I guess you don't keep patients long since all we have to do is gain weight," Joe said.  
  
"Not quiet," Rimes disagreed with Joe's assessment. "Gaining weight is like losing weight. It's a symptom. You won't get out of her until you're really starting to get better."  
  
"How can you tell?" Joe asked curiously.  
  
Rimes shrugged. "Honestly, I can't," he confessed. "But Dr. Turner can."  
  
"Dr. Turner?"  
  
"He's the psychiatrist," Rimes informed Joe. "You'll be seeing him after breakfast. Now get cleaned up," he instructed. "You're the only male patient at the moment and the only one using this bathroom so go ahead and choose a toothbrush. They are all new."  
  
"This is kind of ridiculous," Joe said as he stepped onto the scales again before sitting down at the breakfast table almost an hour later.  
  
"No, it isn't," Rimes denied. "These scales weigh by the gram."  
  
"What does a gram or two matter?" demanded Joe.  
  
"This is a research facility," Joe was informed as Rimes sat down in front of him. "Data is crucial even if we," his finger flicked from himself to Joe, "don't know what it is used for. Now, eat everything on your plate."  
  
Joe looked down at the slice of dry toast and poached egg. "You've got to be kidding," he said.  
  
"Nope. You eat it or you go back to your room and get a tube down your throat. Trust me," he added. "Being fed by a tube is not a good thing."  
  
"But there's too much," Joe protested.  
  
"You were one of the starvers, I take it," Rimes noted. "Not one of those who ate lettuce for every meal. Look, it's still low in calories," Rimes tried to coax him. "So eat it."  
  
Joe sighed and picked up the toast. "At least you aren't giving me those nasty vitamins," he said with a small shiver as he took a little nip at the toast.  
  
"I don't give any medications," Rimes informed Joe. "That comes when you get back to your room."  
  
Joe eventually finished his toast and started on his egg. "How long have you worked here?" Joe asked.  
  
"Inquisitive fellow, aren't you?" Rimes asked with a grin. Joe shrugged and looked at his plate.  
  
"I've worked here for a little over a year now," Rimes answered Joe's question after he had finished eating in silence. "Come on," he said rising and looking down at Joe. "Back to the scales with you."  
  
Joe stepped on the scales and then followed Rimes back to his room in silence. Apparently, he had goofed. Patients were supposed to be more reticent than he had been. He would have to watch himself. Until he had back up, he couldn't afford to make anyone suspicious of him. It could prove to be a fatal error. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Joe sat down on the sofa and looked at the psychiatrist with more than a little trepidation. Would this man be able to tell if he was lying? 'At least I can stick mainly to the truth about things,' Joe thought. 'Or at least I hope so,' he added silently, wondering what the psychiatrist would want him to talk about.  
  
Dr. Turner was a tall, lean man with rich, curly brown hair and hazel eyes. He had a brown beard and mustache that made him look older than his thirty-six years. He sat watching Joe silently, his eyes never leaving Joe's face although Joe kept glancing away from him nervously.   
  
When Joe had been admitted to the foundation, Dr. Turner and the other members of the staff, had wondered if perhaps Fenton Hardy were conducting some sort of investigation but after Dr. Holden had examined the youth, no one had believed that theory any more. No one would allow their son to do this to himself for any reason. Dr. Turner took a deep breath and sat up straight in his chair causing Joe to jump and face him once again. 'No', the doctor thought. 'Sad. As far gone as the boy was he doubted whether he would have the bright future his family once hoped for him to have.'   
  
"Hello, Joe. My name is Dr. Jack Turner," he introduced himself. Joe gave a shy smile and a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Do you know why you are here?"  
  
"Because my parents put me here," Joe replied with a trace of pseudo bitterness.  
  
"Well, there is that," acknowledged the doctor. "But they only want you to get well."  
  
"Whatever," Joe replied with a shrug.  
  
"Part of your road to well being requires meeting with me every day," Dr. Turner informed Joe. "You can be uncooperative if you choose but that will only lengthen the amount of time you remain in the foundation." Joe shot him a sour look. "Anything you tell me will not leave this room," he continued. "But in order to make progress; you need to be honest with me." After a brief hesitation, Joe gave him a curt nod. "Good. Shall we begin?" he asked. Receiving no reply but still holding Joe's attention, he continued. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable and tell me a little bit about your family?"  
  
"What do you want to know?" Joe countered, a note of suspicion creeping unintentionally into his voice.  
  
"Do you always get defensive when someone asks about your family?" Turner asked.  
  
Joe opened his mouth to deny the subtle accusation but closed it again. 'Do I?' he wondered. "Only when it's someone I don't know very well," Joe finally replied.  
  
"You think everyone has an ulterior motive?" inquired Turner.  
  
"No," Joe snapped defensively. "It's just, well, with what Dad does, we were taught to be careful what we tell people."  
  
"How long has your father been a private investigator?"  
  
"About thirteen years," Joe answered.  
  
"And what did he do before that?" Turner asked.  
  
"He was a police officer with the New York City Police Department," Joe answered truthfully. So far, he could find no reason not to answer what he had been asked honestly.  
  
"So you were raised in an environment that required a certain amount of vigilance to maintain safety?"  
  
"I guess so," Joe agreed with a shrug. "We always kept the alarm on at night and sometimes, Dad had us put in a safe house until he finished a case he was working on."  
  
"How did you feel on those occasions?" Dr, Turner inquired.  
  
"It didn't mess up my life if that's what you're implying," Joe said angrily. "My mom and Frank were there. I felt safe."  
  
"And if you were aware of feeling safe that means there was a time that you didn't," stated the doctor making a note on his clipboard.  
  
"No!" shouted Joe, getting to his feet. "Did I?" He looked at Dr. Turner with a woebegone expression. The doctor did make sense.  
  
"Relax," Dr. Turner instructed Joe. "It's perfectly natural to be scared. Any child would have been." Joe still did not look convinced but he did return to his seat on the sofa. "A child without any fear is one I would be worried about," the doctor tried to reassure Joe.  
  
"You wanted to know about my family," Joe said, leaning back against the sofa and looking at the doctor. He wanted to change the subject.  
  
"Yes," agreed Dr. Turner, unobtrusively writing down that Joe was defensive and chose to change the subject rather than continue in the vein the conversation had been going.  
  
"My dad's super," Joe said. "He always takes time to listen to me when I want to talk to him and if he's home, he always goes to my games."  
  
"Does he miss many of them?"  
  
"Some," Joe admitted. "But I can't expect him to be there for all of them, can I? What he does is very important."  
  
"And your mother?"  
  
"She used to attend all of my games but now she only goes to the special ones," Joe answered.  
  
"Do you know why she stopped going to all of them?" Dr. Turner asked.  
  
Joe shrugged. "She started volunteering for the Red Cross and that takes up a lot of her time now," he explained. "And she isn't really into sports. Look, don't go making notes about me hating my mom. I told her she didn't have to come to any of my games but she's the one who insists on coming to the big ones." Joe's voice broke off as he realized what he was saying. He was supposed to be reserved! What kind of an anorexia victim would be out playing all kinds of sports?  
  
"You miss playing sports?" Dr. Turner inquired, misreading Joe's abrupt change in demeanor.  
  
"What makes you think I don't play them anymore?" Joe countered.  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"No," Joe admitted, looking down at his hands. "I miss it," he continued. "A little," he lied unconvincingly. He couldn't help remembering how he had felt when Dr. Bates had told him he couldn't play anymore.  
  
"What about your brother?" Dr. Turner asked, deciding to follow up on the subject at a later date. "Do the two of you get along?"  
  
"Yes," Joe answered, a smile lighting up his features although his blue eyes remained sad because he had lost Frank's trust the night before last. "We do almost everything together," Joe began. "That is, we used to," he amended. "But he's always there when I need him."  
  
"He has never let you down?" Turner asked, lifting a brow in question.  
  
"Never," Joe asserted. "He makes sure I'm up in the mornings. He helps me if I'm having trouble at school. If someone tries to start a fight with me, he steps in before the first punch gets thrown. He goes...went, to all of my games. He's there if I need to talk to someone. Whenever I get depressed, he kind of senses it and gets me to do something to get my mind off of my troubles. And when Iola died and I did something Dad and Mom would have killed me for, he was by my side to make sure I was okay."   
  
Joe's smile turned nostalgic. "He's the ultimate big brother. He's perfect."  
  
Dr. Turner had been busy writing since Joe began talking about Frank. "You depend on Frank a lot?" he asked when Joe finished speaking.  
  
"I guess so," Joe admitted. "I don't know what I would do without him."  
  
"How much older is he?" Turner inquired.  
  
"A year," Joe answered. "He will be starting college next year."  
  
"And when will you start?"  
  
"A year after that," Joe answered.  
  
"Well, I think that's enough for today," Turner said. "I will see you again tomorrow. Mr. Rimes is waiting outside to escort you back to your room."  
  
As Joe exited, Turner made more notes on Joe. The last one expressed concern that Joe's dependency on his older brother may have been a key factor in his condition since Frank's forthcoming departure seemed to be bringing out feelings of desertion. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

When Frank arrived home he found his mother had already gone to bed so he went upstairs to his father's office and rapped lightly on the door as he turned the knob and pushed it open.  
  
Fenton looked up from the paper he was reading and gave his eldest son a fast smile. "Come on in and close the door," he welcomed Frank softly. "I don't want to awaken your mother."  
  
"She's taking this hard," Frank said.  
  
Fenton nodded. "She feels that she has let Joe down in some way," he said. "For that matter, so do I."  
  
"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Frank. "You and mom are the best parents ever!" he asserted forcefully.  
  
Fenton gave Frank a sad smile. "That's not true," he denied. "But I am glad you feel that way. No, the truth of the matter is when Joe needs help or someone to talk with; he goes to you. Not us. You're more of a parental figure to him than your mother or I have ever been."  
  
"Dad..." Frank began but was silenced by his father raising his hand.  
  
"Don't get me wrong," Fenton begged. "I think it is wonderful that you two are so close but as your parents we should have taken a more active role. Do you know that Joe still hasn't discussed Iola's death with either Laura or me? I know he was hurt and needed to talk but I was afraid to push him. Now, if I even mention her Joe makes up some excuse and leaves."  
  
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Frank asked, his heart beating faster. "Joe lied? He really does have anorexia?"  
  
"I don't know," Fenton quickly replied. "But even if he isn't anorexic, he acted recklessly and that's my fault for not being around as much as I should be."  
  
"Dad, he made a mistake," Frank interrupted him at this point. "I admit, it was a doozie, but it was still only an error in judgment. You once told us that mistakes taught us a valuable lesson. Lessons that one day might save our lives."  
  
"But he almost died!" Fenton retorted, his voice harsh. "He still might."  
  
"You know Joe," Frank told him with a shake of his head. "Do you honestly believe he won't be faced with bigger challenges as he gets older? This could be the lesson that stops him from taking a risk that he would have no chance of surviving."  
  
"I hope you're right," Fenton said, running a hand through his hair. "Sit down," he instructed. "I'll fill you in on what I found out."  
  
"Was there a Crystal Lane?" Frank asked, taking a seat.   
  
"There was," Fenton admitted. "And your brother even had a file with data he had collected on the case."  
  
"What?" demanded Frank in shock.   
  
"Your mother found it shortly after you left," explained Fenton. "She decided to clean his room and found it under his bed."  
  
"Then why did you say you didn't think Joe was anorexic?" demanded Frank angrily. "You have proof he's not!"  
  
"Frank, I read up on the disease while you and Joe were at the museum," Fenton explained calmly. "Sometimes the victim starts out losing weight for one reason but then can't stop. It's entirely plausible that although your brother did the wrong thing for the right reasons he could have become really ill."  
  
Frank sank back into his chair, shaken. He hadn't even considered the fact that Joe could be telling the truth and sick at the same time. He swallowed. "If he is really sick and there is a murderer on the loose, then we need to be there to watch out for Joe," he said.  
  
"And we will be," Fenton promised. "You are to don a disguise and apply for a job first thing Monday morning. I will..."  
  
"Monday?" demanded Frank, leaping to his feet. "We can't leave him alone that long."  
  
"We have too," Fenton said, looking as miserable as Frank felt. "No one looks for a job on Sunday." Frank bit his bottom lip in frustration and sat back down. "As I was saying," continued Fenton, "I will prepare your resume so you shouldn't have any trouble getting hired."  
  
"What about you?" inquired Frank.  
  
"I have to call in a few favors but I am going in as a state inspector," Fenton informed him. "That will give me access to almost everything."  
  
"Almost?"  
  
"The psychiatric files will still be off limits to me," Fenton answered.  
  
"Right," said Frank. "Those will be my task."  
  
"Only Crystal's and your brother's," Fenton cautioned him.  
  
"Understood," acknowledged Frank.  
  
"Crystal Lane was diagnosed as anorexic shortly after her sixteenth birthday," Fenton began. "She was admitted into the Wesley Lane Foundation in June of last year and she died on May first. There is nothing more about her that I could find but Joe's file held notes he had taken from talking to her aunt, although he doesn't have the aunt's name written down," he added, frowning.  
  
"What did the aunt say?" Frank asked. His dad didn't know about Charity and he wanted to keep it that way if possible. It would only get Joe into more trouble even though Joe had no connection to her except when she chose to initiate one.  
  
"Crystal had been doing well and was scheduled to be released the first week in May. But sometime after the last visit from her parents, something happened to her and she became almost completely docile. Joe put down that the aunt said she acted like she had no will of her own. The morning her parents were to arrive for the last visit before she was allowed to leave, she committed suicide."  
  
Fenton quit speaking and reread Joe's notes. "This sounds like the aunt managed to see her between visits."  
  
"Maybe she works there," suggested Frank. "What else have you got?" he asked quickly.  
  
"A list of employees," Fenton said and handed a sheet of paper over to Frank. "Dr. Holden is Joe's doctor and Dr. Turner is the resident psychiatrist. There are three other doctors who rotate shifts but Dr. Holden is the man in charge, although there is a chairman who runs the financial and legal aspects of the center."  
  
Frank looked at the list of names. Four doctors total, one psychiatrist, eight orderlies, and two nurses "Eight orderlies?" asked Frank in dismay. "I'll never get hired."  
  
"Each patient gets one on one treatment," Fenton informed Frank. "And each patient has to be monitored every minute the are out of their rooms. I daresay they could use at least two more."  
  
"Phil?" Frank asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Not just yet," Fenton declined the suggestion. "If we try an overload, someone might get suspicious." He glanced at his watch. "It's been a long day. Why don't you head on to bed?"  
  
"All right," agreed Frank, standing up. "Goodnight," he said, heading out the door.  
  
Fenton watched Frank leave and knew he wouldn't get much rest. He knew Frank worried about Joe more than anyone, himself and Laura included, and that was saying a lot. How was Frank going to make it through another twenty-four hours without seeing or talking to Joe?  
  
Fenton's frown turned into a look of puzzlement before finally breaking into a smile of enlightenment. He picked up the phone and dialed Callie's number, hoping she was still awake.  
  
"Callie? This is Frank's father," he said when she picked up.  
  
"Hello, Sir," Callie said, grinning into the phone. Mr. Hardy always introduced himself as Frank's dad when he called. 'Like I wouldn't know him anyway,' she thought with rueful amusement.  
  
"I was hoping you could do me a favor?" Fenton asked.  
  
"Name it," she replied, wondering what it could possibly be. She listened silently as he talked. "Of course," she replied at once. "I think that's a wonderful idea!"  
  
Fenton thanked her and hung up the phone. Feeling slightly better, he closed the folder, put it in his file cabinet, and went to bed. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Joe spent most of the day in his room looking at a magazine he had picked up in the common room. If this case was going to last very long he intended to have his mom bring him a horror book to read. He grimaced when he realized she would probably be bringing his schoolwork instead so he did not lag behind.  
  
Joe put the magazine down and looked around his room. How was Crystal supposed to have killed herself? He could see nothing that would lend itself to any form of suicide. They weren't even allowed forks or knives when they ate. No, he was positive, as was Charity, that Crystal's demise had not been self-inflicted. But why would someone want her dead?  
  
Maybe he would find out when Rimes came to take him to dinner. Dinner. Now there was another problem. He had given in far too easily at breakfast and at lunch he had still been thinking about what he had discussed with Dr. Turner and eaten without thinking. He remembered Dr. Holden's threat of being force-fed if he refused to eat but how bad could it be? His mind made up; he waited as patiently as he could for dinnertime to arrive.  
  
***************************************************  
  
"Good morning," Fenton greeted Frank as he entered the kitchen Sunday morning.  
  
"What's good about it?" retorted Frank grumpily. He sat down in the chair beside his mother and picked up his fork.  
  
"Honey, I know you're worried about your brother," Laura said. "We all are, but there isn't anything we can do about it today."  
  
"And Joe will be all right until tomorrow," Fenton said, praying feverently that he wasn't lying. "Joe will probably be kept locked in his room for the first few days so he won't be able to get into trouble."  
  
"I hope you're right," Frank said, stabbing a piece of sausage.  
  
"What are you going to do today?" Laura inquired, attempting to be as normal as possible.  
  
Frank shrugged. "Homework?"  
  
"How much do you have?" asked Fenton with a slight frown.  
  
"None, actually," admitted Frank. "But I thought since I wouldn't be at school for awhile, I would read ahead."  
  
"You won't be able to concentrate," Fenton vetoed the idea. Frank gave a small shrug. He knew his dad was right but he had to do something to keep from stressing about Joe. The doorbell rang and Fenton excused himself to answer it. When he returned, he brought with him a surprise for Frank.  
  
"Callie!" Frank gasped, his dejected look disappearing to be replaced with a big smile. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Hello to you, too," she replied, pretending to be cross. "It's great to see you too."  
  
Frank blushed. "Sorry. It is good to see you but we didn't have plans. Did we?" he asked as an afterthought.  
  
"We never made any plans, no," Callie answered, taking pity on him.  
  
"But we did," Fenton put in. Frank looked at his father quizzically.  
  
"You need a break before tomorrow," Fenton told him. "Joe's going to need a lot of support to get back to normal even after this case is over," he explained. "So today you are to forget about everyone, except Callie of course, and everything."  
  
Frank shook his head. "Dad, I can't..." he began.  
  
"That's an order," Fenton interrupted him in a firm tone. "I know you are concerned about Joe and there is no way you could forget about him even for a minute but if you really want to help him you are going to have to do this."  
  
"I'll keep him so busy he won't have time to think about anything," Callie promised.  
  
****************************************************  
  
True to her word, Callie kept Frank occupied until the moment they returned to the Hardy house to pick up her car. Frank smiled contentedly as he watched her drive away. Although Joe had never been far from his thoughts, Callie's steady stream of conversation during a day filled with surfing at the beach with their friends in the morning and an afternoon at Zippy Zane's Waterworld had kept him from worrying as much as he otherwise would have. As Callie's blue Nova turned the corner out of sight, Frank went inside, his stomach rumbling as his nostrils were assaulted by the smell of a freshly made apple pie.  
  
******************************************************  
  
"I'm not hungry," Joe said as he sat picking at his dinner.  
  
"You have to eat," Joe was informed by Dan Tennenbaum, the orderly who had taken over for Rimes when he had left for the day. "It's in the rules."  
  
"I ate breakfast and lunch," objected Joe. "I'm full."  
  
"Lunch was six hours ago and you only had a small salad and half of a croissant," Tennenbaum countered. "Eat."  
  
"How do you know what I had?" demanded Joe. "You weren't here."  
  
"It's on your chart," Tennenbaum replied. "Now, this is your last chance. Eat."  
  
"No," refused Joe stubbornly pushing his plate away.  
  
"Your choice," Tennenbaum declared, standing up. "Let's go."  
  
"Where?" Joe asked hesitantly. Had he been too hasty?  
  
"Back to your room," was the answer. Joe smiled and stood up. Maybe Dr. Holden had been bluffing he thought happily as he was led back to his room.  
  
Left alone, Joe started to relax. He picked up the magazine he had been going through earlier and began reading. He had just set it back down when his door opened and Tennenbaum, Dr. Holden and another orderly entered.  
  
"What?" Joe asked, warily eyeing the doctor.  
  
"You were informed of the consequences of not eating," Dr., Holden answered, holding an apparatus that made Joe pale as his stomach began churning.  
  
"Uh..uh.. I'm sorry," apologized Joe. "I'll eat," he promised.  
  
"Too late," Dr. Holden replied as the orderlies moved in on either side of Joe.  
  
Joe was easily subdued and before too long, Dr. Holden had finished his task. The three men left he room after checking Joe's statistics and locked the door behind them.  
  
Joe sat up, shakily holding one hand over his mouth and the over his stomach as he did so. 'No more!' he vowed silently. 'No mystery is worth this!' No matter how it looked, he would not refuse to eat again.  
  
*******************************************************  
  
Monday morning Frank brought his mother's car to a stop in front of the foundation and got out. The weather was hot and humid and his shirt had begun to cling to him, revealing the perfect physical form beneath. He had the resume his father had prepared tucked under one arm as he entered the building and asked to speak with the chief administrator.  
  
"He will be out in a bit," the nurse informed Frank. "If you will just be patient?'  
  
Frank nodded and smiled then moved away from the desk to look at the bulletins tacked to the board across the hall.  
  
"No!" a voice screamed in abject terror. "Please? No!"  
  
Joe! Frank recognized the voice as he once again screamed out. "Please, please! NO!" 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Frank ran down the hall and into his brother's room in time to see two orderlies step back from the bed that they had just strapped Joe too. "What's going on?" he demanded, trying hard to keep his expression neutral.  
  
Joe spoke at the same time, not recognizing Frank when he entered. "I'll eat breakfast," he promised, his blue eyes wide with fright. "Lunch and dinner too," he added. "Please?"  
  
"He refused to eat dinner last night," Rimes answered Frank with a scowl. "So now he has to be fed with tubes."  
  
Frank swallowed before speaking so he could keep his tone impartial. "Was he fed this way last night after he refused?"  
  
"Yes," answered the tall, gangly orderly whose nametag identified him as Spricket.  
  
"Then don't you think he might have learned his lesson and is willing to cooperate now?" Frank asked, resisting the urge to look at his brother for fear he might give away his cover.  
  
"A possibility," agreed Dr. Holden from behind Frank.  
  
Frank spun around and saw the doctor standing there but the doctor was looking speculatively at Joe. "Will you eat every meal placed before you?" he asked the blond-headed youth. Joe nodded vigorously. "Very well, you will be given one more chance." He looked at Rimes. "Take him to breakfast."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Rimes responded. The other orderly let out a relieved sigh. He hated seeing the patients suffer.  
  
"Who are you?" Dr. Holden asked, turning to Frank as Joe was being released.  
  
"Michael Slag," Frank answered. Joe threw him an unobtrusive look. He had recognized the alias as one from a list they had drawn up months ago. "I was waiting to see the chief administrator about a job," Frank explained his presence. "But I heard someone screaming and came to see if I could be of help."  
  
"Initiative," stated Holden with a small smile. "I like that. Come with me and I will escort you to his office."  
  
"Thank you, Sir," Frank replied, following the doctor through the door without a second glance at Joe or the two orderlies.  
  
"I hope they hire him," Spricket said as they waited for Joe to get to his feet.  
  
"Agreed," said Rimes, nodding. "It's weird but about a fourth of the patients here need watching twenty-four seven and another fourth, like this one, have to be locked up unless someone is with them."  
  
"I don't have to be locked up," protested Joe. "I thought that was some rule for all of the patients."  
  
"Just the ones who haven't gotten past the stage of making themselves sick," Spricket informed him. "Half the kids here have free run of the place."  
  
"How will you know I won't make myself sick anymore if I am never given the chance?" reasoned Joe.  
  
"It's up to Dr. Turner and the other doctors to make that decision," answered Rimes. "Now, come along," he instructed. "You have another session with Dr. Turner after breakfast."  
  
"I'll head back to the east wing then," Spricket said. "Liz is a real pain to watch and it took me forever to convince Nurse Blaine that I had to help you this morning so she would have to watch Liz for awhile."  
  
"Thanks," Rimes said gratefully. "I'll see you after work. We're still on for bowling, right?"  
  
"You bet'cha," agreed Spricket before leaving.  
  
******************************************************  
  
"Well, Mr. Slag, your resume is very impressive," said Stan Lyman, the chief administrator of the Wesley Lane Smith Foundation. "When would you be able to start?"  
  
"Immediately," answered Frank.  
  
"How about this evening?" Lyman asked, his green eyes twinkling. "We are a bit short-staffed at the present, you see. Our goal is to maintain one orderly for every two patients per twelve-hour shift. However, some of out patients no longer require around the clock supervision and we maintain a skeleton staff after eight p.m."  
  
"You want me here at eight?" asked Frank.  
  
"No. The shift begins at seven but most of the nurses and all but one doctor leave at eight," Lyman explained. "Of course, if you would care to stay for a little while this morning, I will show you around."  
  
"Thank you, Sir," agreed Frank with a slight nod. He followed Lyman out of his office and down the hall. At the first door, Lyman stopped and informed Frank that all information on the patient was kept on a chart within the locked file holder by the outside of the door.  
  
"You will be given a master key for the files when you begin work this evening," Lyman told Frank. "Before entering the room you are to remove the file and familiarize yourself with the patient. You need to know their likes and dislikes; allergies; even what they ate when you were not with them.  
  
"If, by some miracle, a snack is requested by a patient, you will treat it like a meal. Weight and blood pressure is to be taken and recorded along with the time. You will list what the snack was; how much was given; how much was eaten; and, again, the weight and blood pressure after the consumption."  
  
"Why so much detail?" asked Frank curiously.  
  
"This is a research facility," Lyman answered. "We are working on a cure."  
  
Lyman continued showing Frank around the building. They were almost finished when Frank saw Joe, fully dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a white tee shirt, being escorted to a room not far from where he and Lyman stood. "That isn't his room," observed Frank with a frown. Lyman looked at Frank suspiciously so Frank told him how he had met Dr. Holden earlier.  
  
"Ah, I see," Lyman said, his friendly smile back in place. "That is Jack Turner's office," he informed Frank. "Dr. Turner is our resident psychiatrist. New patients, like Joe, see him daily while others only see him twice a week. It is up to Dr. Turner to judge the mental stability of the patients. His prognosis, along with that of Dr. Holden or Dr. Kutchem is what determines the amount of supervision needed for each patient."  
  
As Frank left the foundation, he wondered what Joe had been talking about with Dr. Turner that kept him on the high-risk supervision list that he had seen posted in the main hall when he had first arrived. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Joe took a seat on the sofa in front of Dr. Turner's desk and sat quietly looking around the office while the doctor finished reading something in the file, his, Joe assumed, that lay open on his desk.  
  
"Good morning, Joe," Dr. Turner greeted him, pulling Joe's gaze from the books that lined the wall to his left.  
  
Joe nodded but didn't speak. "Is there anything in particular you would like to talk about?" Turner asked. Joe shook his head. "Then how about we begin with your earliest memory?" Again, Joe shrugged. "Care to tell me the first thing you remember as a child?"  
  
Joe smiled. "Mud," he answered. "Frank and I were playing outside after a summer shower and we started making mud pies," he began to elaborate. "We began throwing them at each other and then our Aunt Gertrude came outside and got in the line of fire. She was dressed up for a date but we got her good. She was furious," he added, his smile becoming even bigger.  
  
"That made you happy?" inquired the doctor, hiding his surprise.  
  
"No," denied Joe, shaking his head. "But Dad came outside to see what all the yelling was about and broke out laughing. Auntie got mad at him and pushed him into the mud with us but he didn't get mad. Instead, he grabbed a handful of mud and flung it at her. He went quite for a minute and so did Frank and me. I thought she was going to let him have it."  
  
"But she didn't?"  
  
"Oh, yes, she did," Joe returned. "But it was how she got back at him that was so funny. She jumped in the mud with us and started throwing mud at him. Then Dad and Auntie started tossing it at us. We were all laughing so hard that we didn't hear mom get back from the store until she started laughing. Dad started to throw some at her but she told him he had better not because someone had to stay clean to run inside and get towels. When we got out of the mud, mom hosed us all down and gave us towels before letting us inside the house."  
  
Dr. Turner made a small notation then looked back at Joe. "What about your next memory?" he asked. "Did it also involve your family?"  
  
Joe's smile faded away. "At first," he answered. "It was my fourth birthday and mom and dad had taken us to the carnival. I didn't like the roller coaster so while Dad took Frank for a ride, Mom and I went into the funhouse."  
  
"Did something happen in the funhouse?" Dr. Turner asked after Joe had gone quiet.  
  
"Yeah," answered Joe, dully. "I got separated from mom. I tried to find her but before I did, someone found me. He said he was with carnival security and would take me to my mom."  
  
"But he never?"  
  
Joe shook his head. "We went through some doors and out the back to where a car was waiting. I realized something was wrong then and started to scream but he picked me up and put a hand over my mouth. We got in the car with two other men and left."  
  
"How long were you with these men?"  
  
Joe shrugged. "I can't remember," confessed Joe. "But I remember being really scared because one of the men told me if I didn't stop crying I would never get to go home."  
  
"Did you stop?"  
  
Joe nodded. "They weren't too mean to me except when I said I wanted to go home. One of them even taught me how to pick locks just so I wouldn't cry," he added, having forgotten why he was there.   
  
"You remember how to pick locks?" Turner asked, frowning as he thought about Joe's room at the foundation.  
  
Joe nodded. He was remembering, more vividly than he would have liked, his time as a prisoner. "I thought I would learn how to do it and escape and capture them and then Dad would be proud of me."  
  
"Didn't you think your Dad was proud of you anyway?" Turner inquired.  
  
Joe shrugged. "He loved me," Joe answered. "But I hadn't done anything to make him proud of me. Frank was in kindergarten and at night when Frank showed him something he had done in school Dad would puff up and smile. And..." Joe broke off.  
  
"And?" pushed Turner in a gentle tone.  
  
"And one time when I heard Sam said he bet Dad was proud of Frank, Dad got all puffy again and said he had good reason to be," Joe said. "He's never said that about me."  
  
Dr. Turner made another note on Joe's file. "Does it bother you that your Dad is more proud of Frank than of you?"  
  
"Not anymore," Joe answered. "Dad should be proud of Frank. He's a borderline genius," Joe added, pride of his brother coming through in his voice. "And he's got a photographic memory. He's been good at everything he's ever tried to do."  
  
"And you aren't jealous of him?" Dr. Turner inquired, writing down more notes. "Not even a little bit?"  
  
"No way!" Joe denied empathetically. "He's the greatest!"  
  
"You care about your brother a great deal," Turner observed. "Any particular reason?"  
  
"Because he's the best brother a guy could have," Joe answered honestly. "He's there if I need to talk. He's always looking out for me. Sometimes, he even stops me from doing something mom and dad said I could do because he's afraid I will get hurt."  
  
"Do you do many activities with your brother?" Turner inquired.  
  
"We used to do almost everything together," Joe admitted, unaware Turner had latched onto the phrase 'used to'. "We double-dated; went to the same events; took turns reading a bestseller out loud; studied; and solved mysteries."  
  
"And you don't do these things together anymore?"  
  
"Not as much as we used to," Joe confessed, a small frown playing around his lips as his eyes dulled just a fraction. "Frank used to tell me what was going on before anyone else but since last spring, he generally tells Callie first. Or Phil."  
  
"Who are they?"  
  
"Callie is his girlfriend," Joe answered with a shrug. "I can understand why he tells her. I kind of think he's serious about her."  
  
"And Phil?" asked Turner who was still making notes.  
  
"He's Frank's best friend," Joe answered, his tone growing short without realizing it.  
  
"And who is your best friend?"  
  
"Frank," Joe answered without thought.  
  
"But Phil is Frank's best friend?" Turner repeated for clarification. Joe nodded.  
  
Turner ended the session after a few more minutes and sat writing his conclusions after Joe had departed. It was his opinion that Joe, feeling inferior to his older brother in their relationship with their father, looked upon Frank as a type of surrogate father. It was also obvious to him that Joe was jealous of Frank's relationship with Phil because he felt shut out in the same way he felt shut out by his own father.   
  
"Conclusion?" murmured Turner thoughtfully before writing down his thoughts. A very complex individual who is entirely too dependent. A dependency that is detrimental to the social skills needed to mature. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"And this is..." Lyman broke off as Dr. Turner's door opened and a quiet and obviously disturbed young man exited. "Hello, Joe," Lyman said, breaking off his former sentence to greet the boy. "Joe Hardy is our newest patient," Lyman informed the government inspector who had arrived almost as soon as the new orderly had left.  
  
Joe glanced at the inspector, his thoughts elsewhere, then back to Lyman. "Joe, this is Aaron Poe," Lyman made the introduction. "Mr. Poe is an inspector from the state health board and may be stopping in to talk with you a little later."  
  
Joe gave a nod of acknowledgement as Rimes came over and took his arm. Lyman introduced Rimes and then he and Aaron Poe, aka Fenton Hardy, continued on their tour of the foundation.  
  
***  
  
"Do I have to go back to my room now?" asked Joe, looking at Rimes. "It's so boring. Couldn't I watch TV or something?"  
  
"That will be okay," Rimes agreed with a smile. As long as Joe was in the common room he would be under surveillance by Nurse Redman and Mike Miller, another orderly who were serving their tour of duty at the dullest job in the complex. "But you have to stay until I return for you," Rimes added. "Two and a half hours?" he asked, giving Joe plenty of time to find a movie to watch if he wanted.  
  
Joe nodded and continued past his room to the common room with Rimes right behind him. Yesterday, Joe had been too introspective to remember why he was there in the first place but he wasn't going to let that happen again. Pushing his session with Turner to the back of his mind, Joe started concentrating on the case at hand. Namely, who had murdered Crystal Lane and why.  
  
Joe entered the common room and went to sit down on one end of the sofa in front of the television. A girl in her late teens sat at the other end, her eyes glued to the television screen as if it could provide some form of escape. "Hi," Joe said after a few minutes of silence. "I'm Joe."  
  
The girl turned to look at him, her green eyes sad in her sallow face. "Brenda," she said looking at him with veiled curiosity. "I haven't seen a boy in here before."  
  
Joe shrugged. "I just got in Saturday," he said, looking around briefly before turning his full attention back to her. "I thought there would be more people here."  
  
"Not until after lunch," Brenda said. "That's why I like to come in the mornings."  
  
"Nicer," agreed Joe. Brenda nodded then turned back to the television.  
  
"How long have you been here?" asked Joe, wondering if she had known Crystal.  
  
"Two months and four days," Brenda answered with a grim set to her lips.  
  
"They are really strict," Joe commented with a slight twitch of his nose after she had fallen silent again.  
  
"They ease up," Brenda returned.  
  
"All of them?" Joe pushed. Although he knew Brenda wouldn't have known Crystal, maybe she had noticed something about one or more of the people who worked there.  
  
"As long as you do what you are told," she confirmed. "But watch out for Holden," she added. "He's a bit...weird."  
  
"Weird, how?"  
  
"I was talking to Bethany a couple of weeks ago and he went positively ballistic. There was no reason for it either," Brenda continued, frowning. "I'm considered a low risk patient," she explained. "That means I don't have to have constant supervision and can go pretty much anywhere except for areas designated for employees only as long as my weight doesn't decline and I eat my meals like a good little girl," she added sarcastically. "Bethany is a moderate. That means she can roam around some but still isn't allowed to go to the bathroom or to meals without June or Stacey."  
  
"June and Stacey?" asked Joe, his left eye narrowing without his being aware.  
  
"Two of the orderlies," Brenda informed him.  
  
"That's funny," Joe said. "I've only seen male orderlies."  
  
"There are a few of those," acknowledged Brenda. "But most of them are women. They probably stuck you with the guys because you are one."  
  
"Makes sense," Joe admitted. "But Holden got mad because you were talking to Bethany?" he asked, steering the conversation back to where he wanted it. Brenda bobbed her curly blond head. "What were you talking about?"  
  
"A friend of hers that died earlier this year," she answered. "Some girl named Crystal."  
  
"How did she die?" asked Joe.  
  
"She puked her guts out," Brenda answered. Joe snorted. "No, really. Bethany said Crystal was doing great. She was even going to get to go home but then the morning before she was to be released she started throwing up. Bethany said Crystal was already throwing up blood before they took her to Bridgeport Memorial Hospital."  
  
"Crystal died at the hospital?" asked Joe. "Not here?"  
  
Brenda shrugged. "Bethany said she could see her retching and shaking as the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance. She could have died before they got off the grounds. I don't know."  
  
"Bethany's room has a window?" Joe asked, wondering if Bethany had been lying to Brenda.  
  
"No," Brenda answered. "But you can see the entrance through the window near the nurse's station. She was watching from there."  
  
Joe frowned. Something was definitely fishy because Charity had said the official report was that Crystal had killed herself. And if Crystal was so close to being well then how did she manage to make herself so sick? Just shoving your finger down your throat wouldn't make you that sick unless you were too sick to leave in the first place, he thought. She had to have been given something. But what and by whom? Holden? He could easily have changed her medication, that is, if she were still on medication and her going home so soon.  
  
Why had he been so upset about Bethany and Brenda talking about Crystal? Surely, telling someone that someone else puked their guts out would be a good thing. If someone died throwing up that would be a deterrent to someone else doing the same thing if they knew. Wouldn't it? Brenda was right. Holden was weird. Or evil. He would require watching. 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

"If I can assist you in any way, please, feel free to let me know," Lyman said to Fenton as he exited Holden's office ad closed the door.  
  
Fenton sighed and opened the drawer of the file cabinet where his son's chart was kept. Each patient had a chart outside of their room Fenton had learned during his tour of the facility as Aaron Poe. He knew he was supposed to be looking for Crystal Lane's file, and he would, but the father inside of him had control over the investigator and he had to know how his son was doing, especially after seeing him looking so sad in the hallway just a short time ago.  
  
Finding the file, he pulled it out and scanned it, his mouth tightening into a thin line as he read the entry concerning Joe's punishment for not eating his dinner Sunday night. He only wished the psychiatrist's observations were also contained within. Putting the file back, he opened another drawer and pulled out the one for Crystal Lane. He was actually surprised to find it. He had expected them to dispose of it after her death or at the very least transfer it to disk.  
  
After reading it over he replaced the file and began looking through the other files. The one strange thing he noticed was that each file had a numerical and alphabetical designation. Each patient had a number, one through four, listed in the top left inside of the folder followed by either an A or a B. He pulled Crystal's back out and did a recheck. Hers had originally been classified as 2B but had been marked through and the designation 4A was noted beneath the original entry.   
  
Frowning, he removed Joe's file once more. The number and code for his file was 1A. What did the letters and numbers mean, he wondered. He replaced the files and moved over to Holden's desk. He hoped to find something that would tell what the numbers signified but after half an hour he had come to the conclusion he would not find the answer here. He sighed, grateful that his cover allowed him the authority to ask about the code.  
  
Finished with the desk, he turned on the computer. Most of the files he found were open to him but a few were encrypted. 'I expected as much,' he thought, reaching into an inner pocket of his blazer and pulling out a blank disk. He inserted it and copied the files then put the disk back into his pocket. Finished, he turned off the computer and left the room.  
  
***************************************************************  
  
Joe was ready when Rimes returned for him. He was taken to lunch instead of his room and although Joe hated broccoli, his previous night's experience had taught him his personal preferences were inconsequential.  
  
As he ate, he glanced around the cafeteria, his gaze locking briefly with the green-eyed state inspector. Joe had the feeling he knew the man but couldn't recall ever having met the curly redhead before.  
  
"Not a lot of people in here," commented Fenton, turning away from the sad blue eyes of his son.  
  
"No," agreed Nurse Davis who sat across the table from him. "The main symptom of anorexia is vanity so we keep the male patients away from the female ones except when they are in the common room."  
  
"How many male patients are there?" inquired Fenton.  
  
"Currently, we have just the one," Dr. Holden answered for the nurse, his gaze switching briefly to Joe before returning to the inspector. "The most we have ever had at any given time is two and that was shortly after the foundation was formed."  
  
"Why so few?"  
  
"Males are not as susceptible to the disease as females," Holden stated.  
  
"Why not?" Fenton asked.  
  
"If we knew the answer to that with any amount of certainty we could very well be on our way to a cure," Dr. Holden replied, turning to look at Joe once more in a way that sent chills down Fenton's spine.  
  
"And are you exploring this channel?" asked Fenton, controlling the surge of anger that threatened to surface.  
  
"Most definitely," Holden affirmed, turning to smile at Fenton. "Joe is being closely monitored," he began. "His physical condition is checked every day and his weight and blood pressure are taken a minimum of eight times a day. Too, he has been meeting with Dr. Turner every day."  
  
"The psychiatrist?" Fenton asked for clarification.  
  
"Correct," acknowledged Holden. "We are hoping to find what Joe and our female patients have in common."  
  
"Any luck so far?"  
  
"Joe has only been here since Saturday afternoon," Dr. Holden informed Fenton. "It is really too soon to make a hypotheses."  
  
"I noticed there were numbers and letters on each of the files," said Fenton, changing the subject. "One A, Two A, Two B , etcetera. What do they signify?"  
  
"Each number represents the risk factor of the patient," Nurse Davis informed him. "The lower the number, the more likely the patient is to be a danger to himself."  
  
"And the letters?" Fenton pushed for an explanation.  
  
"If you will excuse us," Dr. Holden said, rising. "Nurse Davis and I have to get back to work. If you have any more questions, please don't hesitate to ask."  
  
Fenton couldn't help scowling as he watched the doctor and nurse leave. He was almost positive Nurse Davis would have answered his question about the letters but now he was equally sure any answer he received at a later date would not be a truthful one.  
  
Fenton looked over at Joe as he stood on the scales before leaving the cafeteria. Although he did not approve of Joe's method for infiltrating the foundation, he had to agree that something was going on here. Something that one young girl may have discovered and died for. 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Frank arrived at the foundation twenty minutes early and reported to the staff nurse. "Here's your uniform and nametag," said the nurse, a clean-shaven man with thinning hair. "After you change, I will fill you in on your duties for this evening."  
  
At seven pm exactly, Frank walked down the hall and stopped at the door of Mary Matthews, one of the patients who had been at the foundation for almost eight months. He opened the file holder and read her file, as was required of anyone entering a room, then replaced it and rapped on the door.  
  
"Leave me alone!" shouted the belligerent girl.  
  
Frank took a deep breath and opened the door. "Now, you know I can't do that," he said as he walked into her room.  
  
Mary looked at him speculatively. "You're new here," she observed.  
  
"First day," admitted Frank.  
  
"And you're my new jailer?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.  
  
"No. Sorry," apologized Frank. "Sarah had car trouble and will be late so I was asked to escort you to the common room."  
  
"Too bad," Mary said, getting to her feet. "Okay, let's go. I don't want to miss any more of my show than I have too."  
  
"I saw on your chart that you have been here awhile," Frank said as they went down the hall.  
  
"What of it?" she demanded defensively.  
  
"Nothing," Frank hastily tried to deflate her anger. "I was just wondering if you had met my cousin. She was in here earlier this year."  
  
"What was her name?"  
  
"Crystal Lane," answered Frank.  
  
"Yeah, I met her," Mary admitted. "She was okay until she went loco. No offense," she added.  
  
"None taken," Frank returned with a smile. "But don't you mean she was okay after she got over being sick?"  
  
"I meant what I said," Mairy informed him stiffly. "She was nice but then she changed. She got so paranoid it was spooky."  
  
"Paranoid? Crystal?" Frank demanded, acting like the concept was too much to accept.  
  
"Yes, Crystal," affirmed Mary. "She swore we were all guinea pigs and she was going to prove it," she told him a s they reached the entrance to the common room. "See ya," she said, going inside and sitting down on the sofa in front of the television.  
  
Frank checked her in with the nurse and orderly in charge and left. He had two patients to attend to this evening. One, Leslie Whitman, was an inmate of almost eight months and was well on her way to recovery, according to what the staff nurse had told him. She did not need constant supervision so all he had to do with her was escort her to the common room and leave. After her time there was finished, he was to take her to the bathroom and wait until she came out then escort her back to her room where she was not to be locked in. Only the patients of medium risk and up had to be locked in their rooms.  
  
Frank picked up Leslie and tried to talk to her but she was incredibly shy and stuttered any answer that required more than one syllable. Giving up, Frank took her to the common room and left her there with Mary, who seemed to have developed a friendship with the girl. After checking her in, Frank headed back down the hall to his main patient of the evening: Joe.  
  
As he approached, he saw Dr. Holden and another doctor talking just outside of Joe's door. Dr. Holden was writing something down. "Hello," Frank greeted the two men. He checked out the name of the unknown doctor: Dr. Kutchem.  
  
"Good timing," Dr. Holden said, handing Joe's chart to Frank. "I have just finished his physical."  
  
"It simply makes no sense," Dr. Kutchem said, still looking at Holden. "He's eating everything he is given but is still losing weight."  
  
"Perhaps his metabolism is too high," suggested Frank.  
  
"That has been taken into account," Holden acknowledged Frank's theory.  
  
"What about depression?" asked Kutchem. "Unlike the others, he has been leaving his therapy sessions more depressed than when he entered," he added as he and Holden moved away.  
  
Frank gritted his teeth in frustration as they moved too far away to be heard. He looked over his brother's chart before replacing it in the holder by the door and unlocking Joe's door and going inside.  
  
Joe lay on the bed with his feet crossed and his hands tucked beneath his head. He looked at Frank as he walked in and sat up slowly.  
  
"Hi, Baby Brother," Frank greeted him softly as he closed the door behind him.  
  
"Hey," Joe said, giving him a wan smile. "Thanks for this morning," he added.  
  
"Why did you refuse to eat last night?" asked Frank curiously. He still wondered if perhaps Joe was sick and the mystery at hand had just afforded him a good excuse.  
  
"I thought they might think I was being too complacent," confessed Joe with a small shrug. "But I don't care if they do think that anymore," he added with a scowl. "That was one of the worst experiences of my life!"  
  
"Have you found out anything?" inquired Frank.  
  
"Maybe," Joe answered and told him what Brenda had said about Crystal.   
  
"We need to find out if she was on any medications and what type of risk she was classified as just prior to her death," Frank said before telling Joe what Mary had said about Crystal's paranoia.  
  
"How could she have been at risk when she was scheduled to leave here?" demanded Joe.  
  
"Every patient has some level of risk attached to them in here," Frank explained. "Even if it is only low risk. Those patients effectively have the run of the place."  
  
"Which would give Crystal the opportunity to find something out that she wasn't supposed to know," Joe observed. "How are you going to get at her files?" asked Joe.  
  
"I'm not," Frank replied. "Dad will. He's undercover as the state inspector."  
  
Joe grinned. "I thought I had seen that guy somewhere before."  
  
"Joe, can I ask you a question?" Frank asked hesitantly.  
  
"Sure," Joe said, cocking his head to the side inquisitively. The look of concern on Frank's face when he had entered the room had not escaped him.  
  
"I know I shouldn't be asking you because what you talk about is private, but, well, Dr. Kutchem said you were more depressed after you saw the psychiatrist than you were before you saw him," Frank began.  
  
"And you want to know what we talked about?" guessed Joe, raising an eyebrow. "Honestly, not much. But everything I said, he tried to twist around."  
  
"How?" Frank demanded. If this psychiatrist was making Joe feel worse on purpose then he was going to have a payload of trouble heading his way.  
  
"I don't know," Joe said in confusion. "It's just that when I say something he asks something that makes me think what I said sounds petty."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Nothing specific," Joe tried to stall, looking away from Frank guiltily.  
  
"Joe?" Frank pushed.  
  
"Okay, okay," Joe said, still not looking at Frank. "After the session today, I well, I felt jealous."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"Of Phil," Joe answered miserably. "He made me think I was jealous of your relationship with Phil." 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

"My...." Frank started in shock but broke off. "Joe, what are you talking about?" he demanded, sitting down on the bed beside Joe and taking Joe's hand in his own.  
  
Frank was struck by how frail Joe seemed as he looked at the hand he was caressing with his thumb. "Joe?" Frank asked again in a firm but soft voice.  
  
Joe didn't want to answer. He felt bad enough without making Frank feel bad too so he just gave a small shrug and kept his head turned away. "Joe, please talk to me," Frank begged. "How can I help if I don't know what is wrong?" he asked reasonably.  
  
"Look, it's nothing I can't work out on my own," Joe told him attempting to pull his hand away but failing as Frank grasped it tightly.  
  
"Maybe not," agreed Frank. "But that is what I am trying to make you see," he continued. "You don't have to do it on your own. I'm here."  
  
At this, Joe did look at Frank. "You're my brother and my best friend as well as my partner," Frank told him earnestly when Joe's eyes reached his own. "Whether you want me or not; you're stuck with me."  
  
"Am I?" asked Joe seriously, his eyes reflecting the hurt he wasn't able to hide. "Your best friend?"  
  
"Of course you are!" Frank asserted in surprise so genuine Joe had no choice but to believe him. "What kind of question is that?"  
  
"Well, it's just that Phil is always calling you his best friend and you're..." Joe started in a rush but broke off because what he had been about to say sounded petty even to him.  
  
"I'm what?" Frank pushed.  
  
"When you get some exciting news you always tell him or Callie first," Joe said, looking away and finally letting it out. "I mean, I understand about Callie. She's your girlfriend and some things it's just easier to tell a girl but well, with Phil, it just feels like I'm taking second place," Joe said lamely.   
  
"Don't," Joe begged as Frank tried to interrupt at this juncture. "I know it's not your fault. It's my problem and hopefully talking with Dr. Turner will help me work out my negative feelings and insecurities."  
  
"Are you done?" Frank asked when Joe fell silent. Joe nodded. "For starters, I may be Phil's best friend but that doesn't make him mine," he said. "No," he continued, putting a hand over Joe's mouth as he tried to interrupt.  
  
"I do like Phil," Frank continued. "And if it weren't for you he probably would be my best friend." Frank took Joe's chin in his hand and forced him to look into his eyes. "I may tell Phil first about some new software that I have gotten or about a chess match but that's only because I know you aren't interested in that kind of stuff. Everything that is really important to me I share with you first. Not Phil. Not even Callie," Frank concluded.  
  
Joe threw his arms around Frank and gave him a hug that Frank returned. "I'm sorry," apologized Joe. "I must seem like the most insecure person on the face of the planet."  
  
"No," Frank said, standing up. "At least, now without help."  
  
"Huh?" questioned Joe, his expression a mixture of curiosity and depression.  
  
"I mean, I think maybe Dr. Turner got you to thinking that way on purpose," Frank explained.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"This is a research facility, right?" Frank asked. Joe nodded. "What if they are doing more than gathering data? What if they are creating specific scenarios for the patients to find out what makes one person more prone to lose weight than another?"   
  
"What are you getting at?" Joe asked, not quite following.  
  
"Outside your room just now, Dr. Holden and Dr. Kutchem were talking about how you are still losing weight even though you are following your regime," Frank explained. "Kutchem hypothesized that it could be because, unlike the other patients, you have been leaving your therapy sessions more depressed than when you went in."  
  
"But why single me out to make depressed?" asked Joe.  
  
"Maybe they haven't," Frank replied. "Maybe you are just one of several or maybe," he added his eyes lighting up with his forming theory. "Or maybe you have been singled out because you are a male."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Think about it," urged Frank. "Why you? What makes a guy get this disease when it mostly affects females? If they were doing unethical research then this would be a golden opportunity."  
  
"Haven't they had other male patients?" queried Joe.  
  
"I don't know," answered Frank. "But I am sure Dad could find out. In the meantime, whatever you discuss with Dr. Turner, don't let him get to you," cautioned Frank. "I'll be here every night. You talk to me."  
  
"Okay," agreed Joe.  
  
"Joe, I mean it," Frank insisted, making Joe look at him again. "If you think you really need to talk, now or even after this is all over, you can talk to me. About anything."  
  
"Yeah?" demanded Joe, an impish light in his eyes. "What if I want to talk about you?"  
  
"Anything," Frank repeated seriously. "And if you don't feel comfortable with me then dad or mom will listen. They love you."  
  
"I know," Joe replied with a pseudo sigh.  
  
"What's wrong?" demanded Frank with concern.   
  
"You said they love me," Joe explained in a sad tone. "Does that mean you don't?"  
  
"What?" shouted a shocked Frank. "Of course I..." he broke off as he realized his bother's shoulders were shaking with ill-concealed laughter. "You pest," growled Frank, ruffling Joe's hair.  
  
Joe gave him a big grin, feeling infinitely better than he had in days. "Come on," Frank said. "Let's get you down to dinner before they think you threw another tantrum and refused."  
  
"Don't even jest," Joe told him with a scowl. 


	19. Chapter 19

When Frank arrived home the next morning, he found his parents were having breakfast. "Sit down," instructed Laura, getting to her feet. "I'll have you something ready in a jiffy."  
  
"Thanks," said Frank, kissing her cheek before sitting down.  
  
"Did you see Joe?" inquired Fenton, looking his eldest son in the eyes.  
  
"Yes," acknowledged Frank in a voice filled with unhappiness. "Dad, we have got to get him out of there. I think they are making him worse on purpose."  
  
"What?" gasped Laura, spinning from her task and staring at Frank with wide blue eyes.  
  
Frank told them about Joe's depression and the chat between the two doctors. "He was feeling a little better by the time I left him in his room but he has to see Turner again today."  
  
"You think Turner is getting Joe depressed on purpose?" demanded Laura as she set a plate in front of Frank. "But why?"  
  
Frank told his parents about his theory. "There were some male patients," acknowledged Fenton. "When I return today, I will find out who they were and when they were released. Hopefully, their addresses will still be current."  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Joe woke up shivering. He had no idea what time it was so he didn't know how long it would be before Frank or Rimes arrived to escort him to the restroom. He threw off his covers and stood up; the chill as the air hit him from the waist down almost causing his teeth to knock.  
  
He made his way to the door and reached out, caressing the wall until his hand made contact with the light switch. Turning it on, he squinched his eyes to block out the brilliant blindness. Seconds later he hit the button on the intercom and asked the answering nurse if he could go to the bathroom.  
  
While he waited, he crawled back under the cover. He was definitely going to ask Frank if there was a way to get some more heat, or at least another quilt, when he came. Ten minutes later, Joe's door opened and Dr. Holden entered the room.  
  
"Don't you sleep?" asked Joe in surprise.  
  
"I do," acknowledged Holden with a smile. "I just come in early."  
  
"What time is it?" asked Joe curiously.  
  
"A little past five," Holden answered. "I understand you needed to go to the bathroom."  
  
Joe nodded as he pushed his cover aside and sat up, visibly shivering again. "I thought only orderlies did the grunge work."  
  
"Normally," concurred Holden. "But we have a limited staff until seven and at the present, they are all busy with other duties."  
  
Joe preceded the doctor from the room and down the hall toward the bathroom. "Wait a minute," Holden ordered. Joe stopped and turned to look at him. "Let's check your weight, temperature, and blood pressure first."  
  
"Don't you think this is overkill?" Joe demanded with a sigh as he entered the room the doctor indicated.  
  
"One never knows for sure what information will prove to be the piece needed to achieve one's goal," Dr. Holden stated as Joe stepped onto the scales.  
  
After performing the required checks, Joe moved to go out the door but was again halted by Holden. "What now?" growled Joe. "I've really got to go."  
  
"Just one more minute," Holden promised, unlocking a cabinet and removing a bottle. He opened the bottle, dropped a pill into his open hand, then shut the bottle and replaced it in the cabinet. He set the pill on a lined tray and relocked the cabinet before taking a small plastic cup and filling it with water. He then lifted pill and handed both it and the cup of water to Joe.   
  
"I want you to take this," Holden told Joe.  
  
"What is it?" asked Joe suspiciously, although he took the proffered items. It didn't really matter what it was, he knew if he didn't take it willingly he would be taking it by force later.  
  
"A vitamin," Dr. Holden said.  
  
"I'm given my vitamins before my meals," Joe said, detecting something in the doctor's voice that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.  
  
"Do I really have to use force to give this to you?" Holden inquired, cocking an arrogant eyebrow.  
  
Joe paled. Scowled. Then popped the pill into his mouth and downed the water. Holden checked to make sure Joe really had swallowed the pill then escorted him to the bathroom. After Joe had finished, there was a repeat of the checks.   
  
"Why are you taking my temperature every time now?" Joe asked  
  
"It has been hypothesized that there may be something specific about your chemical make-up that allowed you to develop this disease. If we could somehow isolate it and see if each of the female patients have it as well, then we would be well on our way to finding a cure," Holden answered.  
  
"So, I am like a guinea pig?" Joe demanded in distaste.  
  
"No, no, of course not," Holden denied but Joe could tell the man was lying. "We just need to keep a closer eye on you is all."  
  
"Like extra vitamins?" asked Joe skeptically.  
  
"Like monitoring all of your vitals," Holden replied. "I also took your pulse while I checked your temperature, remember?" Joe nodded. "Plus, instead of one check-up daily, I think I will give you a complete physical each morning and another at night."  
  
"Starting?" asked Joe warily.  
  
"Starting at eight this morning," Holden answered. "After that, you will have breakfast and see Dr. Turner. Your final physical will be at eight in the evening."  
  
"Great," grumbled Joe.  
  
"Come along," Dr. Holden said. "You can get a little more sleep before your wake-up call."  
  
"Um, could you do me a favor?" Joe asked as they made their way back to his room.  
  
"And that would be?" inquired Holden, making no promises.  
  
"Could you turn up the heat in my room or get me another blanket? I'm freezing," Joe asserted.  
  
"I can arrange that," Holden assured him with a smile. He locked Joe back in his room and made a notation on Joe's file before going to the nurse's desk and requesting the temperature in Joe's room be increased two more degrees.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
Fenton arrived at the foundation and was met by Stan Lyman in the main lobby. "And where would you like to begin today?" Lyman asked after the greetings were completed.   
  
"Your file room," Fenton answered. "I want to compare the records you used to keep with the ones you have on your current patients."  
  
"Of course," Lyman agreed with a smile. "If you will follow me?"  
  
Fenton followed Lyman down the hall, glancing through the open doors as they passed. He slowed his gait considerably as he neared Joe's room, surprised to see the door standing open. He looked inside and saw Dr. Holden listening to Joe's chest and then glanced at Joe's face. Instead of boredom or the scowl he had expected, Joe's face seemed devoid of any emotion whatsoever. 


	20. Chapter Twenty

"Is something wrong?" queried Lyman when he noticed Fenton had come to a stop.  
  
"It was my understanding that this boy was to of had his physical yesterday afternoon," Fenton stated, watching Holden shine a light in Joe's eyes.  
  
"We take very good care of our patients," Lyman informed Fenton proudly. "Now, if you will follow me?" he requested again as he turned around and continued on his way.  
  
Fenton hesitated. He wanted to rush into Joe's room, grab his shoulders and give him a good shake just to see if he could get a response from him. Joe's eyes looked almost glassy. 'Of course!' thought Fenton, following Lyman at last. 'They have drugged him.' As soon as he was alone he would check Joe's chart and see what he had been given. Too, after finding out about the male patients, he would call Laura and have her check Joe out of this place. There was no way they were going to turn his son into some kind of zombie.  
  
**************************************************************  
  
It was almost ten a.m. when Fenton was finally able to call home. "Fenton?" Laura asked when she answered the phone and heard the clipped way he said her name. "What's wrong?" she demanded. She knew he would never call while he was undercover unless something was terribly wrong.  
  
"They have started giving Joe depressants," Fenton informed her.  
  
"But why?" Laura snapped angrily. "Frank said he was already depressed."  
  
"His record says it is to increase his appetite but I don't like how they are affecting him," Fenton said. "I want you to come and check him out of here. Frank and I can finish this case."  
  
"What aren't you telling me?" Laura demanded suspiciously. She detected something in his voice that was more potent than the anger she, herself, felt at the latest news.  
  
"There were male patients before Joe," Fenton said. He didn't want to tell her but he knew she would not let the matter drop. That was one of the many things he loved about his wife. She wasn't demanding or pushy but when it came to her family not even a Saber tooth would have stood a chance. "They died in here," Fenton said and waited for her response. "Laura?" he asked when she remained silent.  
  
"I'm on my way," L:aura stated in a deceptively calm voice. She hung up and wrote a message for Frank before leaving. She climbed into her car and headed for the foundation. To any who saw her she looked like she was going for a leisurely drive but if one gave a closer inspection they would be able to tell by the arch of her back and the hard gleam in her eyes that she was prepared for a war that she had no intention of losing.  
  
Fenton hung up the phone and left the office he was in and headed down the hall. It was almost time for Joe's session with Dr. Turner to end and he intended to make sure Joe wasn't being pushed too far even if it meant blowing his own cover.  
  
Fenton arrived at his destination in time to see Joe exit Turner's office. His heart broke at the miserable look on Joe's face and he almost preferred Joe's earlier glassy-eyed look to the heart-wrenching sadness he saw in his son's eyes now. Fenton followed Joe and Rimes down the hall and back to Joe's room.  
  
"Wait," ordered Fenton as Rimes started to lock Joe inside.  
  
"Oh, hello, Inspector," Rimes greeted Fenton.  
  
"Hello," acknowledged Fenton. "I would lie to ask Mr. Hardy a few questions."  
  
"You can try," Rimes said. "But he isn't nearly as talkative as he was when he first got here."  
  
"Oh? You think his condition has worsened since his arrival?" queried Fenton.  
  
"I'm not a doctor," Rimes responded diplomatically. "So I couldn't say."  
  
"What about your opinion?" pushed Fenton. "Off the record."  
  
"Off the record?" Rimes repeated. Fenton nodded. "Then, yeah, I would say he has definitely gotten worse. I mean, he does eat his meals but before he either enjoyed them or he didn't but today it seemed like he simply didn't care," Rimes explained.  
  
"Do any of the other patients act that way?" Fenton asked.  
  
"A few," Rimes admitted and named a couple of patients, all of whom Fenton remembered had the same letter and number classification as Joe's chart had.  
  
"I see. Thank you for your time," Fenton said. "I will be sure to lock the door when I leave," he added, dismissing Rimes.  
  
"Thank you, Sir," Rimes said and left as Fenton opened the door and went inside.  
  
Fenton closed the door and walked up to the bed where Joe was sitting with his back to the door and his head bowed. "Joseph?" Fenton asked in a soft voice.  
  
Joe remained in the same position, not acknowledging he had heard his father's voice. "Son?" Fenton asked, a bit louder as he went to the other side of the bed and sat down beside Joe.  
  
Joe shivered but did not look up. Fenton reached out and grasped Joe's chin in his hand and forced Joe to look at him. Tears streaked Joe's face as his blood-shot eyes looked down, refusing to meet his father's.  
  
"Baby," whispered Fenton as he pulled Joe into his arms and held him tightly. Joe stiffened and Fenton felt a strong urge to find the psychiatrist and put him six feet under. "It's going to be all right," he whispered against Joe's hair. "Your mother is on her way to take you home."  
  
"Son?" Fenton pulled away from Joe and once again cupped his chin, forcing his head up. "Look at me," he ordered.  
  
Joe looked up and saw the concern in his father's eyes. His lips trembled and then he began quietly sobbing. "What's wrong?" Fenton demanded in a tone of forced gentleness. He was terrified. What had they done to his son?   
  
Joe shook his head as his dad released his chin. "No...nothing," Joe stuttered, looking down at his hands that were lying clasped in his lap.  
  
"Joseph," Fenton stated firmly.  
  
"I...I'm sorry," apologized Joe softly.  
  
"For what?" Fenton asked, confused.  
  
"For being nothing but trouble," answered Joe sadly.  
  
"What?" Fenton demanded. "That isn't true. Why would you think that?"  
  
"Yes it is," Joe insisted sadly. "I'm always getting in over my head and Frank's always baling me out. I know he has to wish I weren't his brother," he added, missing the look of uber shock taking control of Fenton's features. "I wouldn't even have me for a brother. Or a...son," he ended so softly Fenton had to strain to hear him. 


	21. Chapter 21

Joe had woken up feeling run-down. His head felt a little weird but it didn't actually hurt and his energy level was almost nil. Dr. Holden entered his room a little before seven and told Joe it was time for his physical. Feeling too tired to argue, Joe sat up and let the doctor poke and prod all he wanted. Joe thought he saw his dad masquerading as the inspector in the hall but since he couldn't talk to him, he just remained still and let Dr. Holden finish.  
  
After Joe's physical he was put through his morning regime, complete with a breakfast he could not remember, and given more "vitamins". Finally, he was escorted to the psychiatrist's office.   
  
"Hello, Joe," Turner greeted him as he entered and closed the door. Joe gave him a slight nod and took his seat. "I thought we would begin today by talking about your relationship with your father," Turner continued. "Unless you have something specific you wish to discuss?"  
  
"No," Joe mumbled with a small shake of his head.  
  
"You said before that you thought your dad was super," Dr. Turner began. "Can you tell me why?"   
  
"Isn't it obvious?" Joe countered softly. "He's the greatest detective ever," Joe told him. "He's always helping people and he's really smart and observant."  
  
"And it was his power of observation that recognized you needed help?" Turner asked.  
  
"N..no," Joe replied, his forehead breaking into wrinkles as he frowned. 'Why hadn't his dad noticed?' "But once he thought I might need help he took me to the doctor straightaway," Joe added defensively.  
  
"I see," said Dr. Turner, making a notation on his clipboard. "Tell me about the last time you and your dad did something fun together."  
  
"Dad, Frank and I..." began Joe.  
  
"Just you and your father," Turner interrupted him.  
  
Joe remained silent as he thought of the last time only he and his father had done anything together. After a bit, he smiled. "We went to a car race together," Joe said. "Dad came home the night before with two tickets and asked me to go with him," Joe went quiet as he waited to see if Turner would speak. When he never, Joe continued. "We met two of the racers and one of the managers afterwards."  
  
"Your father went to great lengths to assure you enjoyed yourself," Dr. Turner commented. "He must have had some connections to get close after the race."  
  
"Yeah, well, Dad was working on a case and the manager we met up with was his contact," Joe said with a shrug.  
  
"I see," Dr. Turner said and his lips turned down just a fraction as he made another notation. "But your father did choose to take you instead of your brother with the extra ticket he had," he commented.  
  
"Uh-huh," agreed Joe, frowning. His dad had taken him instead of Frank, but had it been because he wanted too or because Joe knew more about cars and his dad had wanted a couple of cars checked out while he kept the drivers and crew busy?  
  
"Do you and your dad do a lot together?" Turner inquired. "That isn't work related or with your brother or mother?"  
  
Joe looked into Turner's eyes, his own filling with pain as he shook his head. "No...no, I guess not," he admitted, remembering when his father had promised to take him fishing only to cancel at the last minute leaving Joe to go with a neighbor who had acted more like a father to him than his own.  
  
"What about your mother?" inquired Dr. Turner. "Are the two of you close?"  
  
"I guess," Joe answered, not really sure of anything at the moment.  
  
"Do you and your mother spend any, pardon the expression, quality time together?" Turner inquired.  
  
"We don't actually go anywhere together but she seems to know when I am feeling down and need to talk," Joe replied. "Sometimes we'll work in the garden together or play cards. But, I guess, most of the time we are together is when I am hurt and she is talking care of me."  
  
"Do you get hurt a lot?"  
  
Joe snorted derisively. "That's putting it mildly. In the past year I have been admitted to the hospital eight times and that's only counting the times I was in for over three days."  
  
"Perhaps you should be more careful," suggested Turner.  
  
"I know," agreed Joe with a scowl. "Frank's always telling me that."  
  
"Your brother?"  
  
Joe nodded. "If it weren't for him I would have died a long time ago," he continued. "He's saved my life many times."  
  
"Do you spend a lot of time with Frank?"  
  
"Oh, yeah," Joe said with a smile. "We do almost everything together. Or we did," he amended. "Lately, he's been spending a lot of time with Callie and Phil."  
  
"And you feel left out?"  
  
"Kind of," confessed Joe. "I know I probably depend on Frank too much but he's always been there. When we were kids he made sure no one picked on me. If I got hurt, he was by my side in seconds. Even now when I end up in the hospital, Frank is the one who stays with me until I wake up."  
  
"But with him spending more time with friends, you feel that he might not always be there for you?" Turner asked.  
  
"No!" Joe denied. "Frank would never let me down."  
  
"I see," Turner replied. "He's the one who recognized that you had lost so much weight?"  
  
"N...no," Joe answered.  
  
"He didn't notice even though you two are so close?" Turner asked in mock disbelief.  
  
"Well, no," Joe said. "But then I pretty much avoided him," he quickly added.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I knew he wouldn't let me exercise or skip meals," Joe answered truthfully.  
  
"Do you think your avoidance of him could have made him realize you don't need him as much as he thought you did and so he has moved on with his own life?" Turner inquired.  
  
"What?" Joe gasped, not wanting to believe what he thought he was hearing. "Are you suggesting I was keeping him from his own life?"  
  
"No, not at all," Turner denied. "You are the one who said he was always there for you until recently when you avoided him and instead of his commanding your attention, he began spending more time with his friends."  
  
Joe sat with his mouth hanging open. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true. He was too much trouble. He had been keeping Frank from living his own life. No wonder Frank hadn't noticed! He had actually been enjoying his time away from Joe. And his mother had better things to do than sit around the hospital watching him. He wasn't a child anymore. And his father! Joe closed his eyes and swallowed. No wonder his dad didn't want to spend any time with him. He must be the biggest disappointment!  
  
A tear slipped down Joe's face. Why hadn't he seen it before? How could he have been so thoughtless? So selfish? His family would be better off without him. 


	22. Chapter 22

Fenton had never felt such anger before. Frank had told him he thought Turner was messing with Joe's mind and now Fenton could see the evidence for himself. If only it was physical proof he would go to the authorities and have the foundation shut down at once. 'Laura, hurry!' he thought as he hugged his son tight.  
  
"Son," Fenton said, pulling back and taking Joe's head into his hands. "Son," he said as Joe refused to look at him. "Listen to me. I am proud to have you as a son. No father could be prouder."  
  
Tears fell from Joe's eyes as he tried to shake his head. "How can you be?" he asked. "I'm always causing so much trouble."  
  
"No, Son," Fenton denied. "You are always helping people. Granted, you don't think about what happens to you in the process but that only makes you that much more special. You care so much. You give so much. Don't you see? It's your selflessness that gets you into trouble all the time but it's that same selflessness that makes you the very special, very lovable, person you are. I love you. Your mother loves you. And no one could deny your brother loves you. Without you, our lives would be so empty."  
  
Joe continued to cry so Fenton pulled him close again. "I called your mother," he said, rocking Joe gently as he rubbed the blond locks. "She will be here soon to get you and take you home."  
  
"No," Joe said and tried to pull away but, like his weight, his strength was also at an all time low. "You can't. I can't," he insisted. "I know they killed her."  
  
"I agree," Fenton said, refusing to release his son. "And your brother and I will prove it," he continued. "But I will not allow them to continue doing this to you."  
  
"They haven't done anything to me," Joe said, his voice quiet and sad. "I...I think talking with Dr. Turner is actually helping me."  
  
Fenton was shocked. Joe may think the man was helping him but, like Frank, he was positive the reverse was true. "Helping you?" asked Fenton with ill-concealed anger. "No, Joseph. He isn't helping you."  
  
"But we're talking things over," objected Joe.  
  
"Like what?" asked Fenton without trying to seem too pushy.  
  
"Like why no one noticed I had lost so much weight," Joe replied. "And he was right. I am a burden. Especially on Frank. That's why when I started avoiding him this past summer he didn't try to spend more time with me. He started spending more time with his friends."  
  
"Joseph, did it ever occur to you that the reason you were able to avoid him for so long was because you left early and never got home until well after dark?" asked Fenton gently. "Your brother was constantly complaining because you weren't home more. He thought we should ground you just so you could spend a day with him."  
  
"He did?" Joe asked, looking up at his father hopefully.  
  
"He did," Fenton stated firmly. "And as far as your weight loss, it was kind of hard to notice when you were seldom around and you went to great lengths to hide it when you were at home. You lied about eating your meals and you started wearing your old clothes. I thought your mother had donated them some time ago."  
  
"She did most of them," Joe confessed. "But..."  
  
"But?"  
  
"But you are so observant," Joe said. "Why..."  
  
"Why what?" Fenton asked, his eyes narrowing on his son because he realized there was something more troubling him.  
  
"No..nothing," Joe stuttered.  
  
"Joseph?" Fenton demanded a bit more sternly.  
  
"Why don't we ever do anything together?" Joe asked softly.  
  
"We do," Fenton countered in confusion.   
  
Joe shook his head. "Not just the two of us," he denied.  
  
"I took you to the race," Fenton reminded him.  
  
"That was your job," Joe pointed out. "You needed me to check out the cars while you kept them occupied."  
  
"I thought you liked working with me," commented Fenton, unable to hide the hurt he felt at Joe's remark.  
  
"I do," Joe said quickly. "But, well..."  
  
"But you want to do something, just the two of us, that has noting to do with work?" asked Fenton. Joe nodded. "Son, do you remember last month when you, Frank and I went on that three-day fishing trip?" Again, Joe nodded. "Do you remember that you insisted Frank come even though he told you that he didn't want to go?"  
  
"Yeah, but he loves to fish," Joe said.  
  
"I know," Fenton said, smiling. "But occasionally, I want to take just you or Frank. But every time I try to do something with just one of you, one of you always starts worrying about the other one."  
  
Joe thought of all the proposed trips his dad had mentioned in the last year alone and how he had always wanted to have Frank go with them. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?" Joe asked.  
  
"No," Fenton answered. "And it's okay to want your brother to come along with us. He always insists on bringing you on the outings I try to take him on too."  
  
"Like the air show over Spring Break last year," Joe commented. Fenton nodded.  
  
"I love you, Dad," Joe told him.  
  
"I love you too," Fenton responded. "And if you feel you need to talk with someone outside of the family about things then there are several good psychiatrists in Bayport you can see. But Dr. Turner is not a good psychiatrist and he isn't trying to help you."  
  
"Yeah, Frank said that too," Joe said. "I guess I'm a real idiot for being taken in by him again."  
  
"No," denied Fenton. "You're just a little confused. And that's understandable," he added. "They started giving you depressants."  
  
"Is that what Dr. Holden gave me this morning?" wondered Joe. "He was weird. Said I had to start having an extra physical every day and had to take a new vitamin. The depressant," Joe added, looking at his father miserably. "I don't get it though."  
  
"Get what?" inquired his dad.  
  
"Why do they want me to get sicker?" Joe asked. "If I'm the only guy and my chemistry is different, shouldn't they want to see what is alike in the other patients and me?"  
  
"I think they are," Fenton answered. "I think they have you in a control group. The one were they intentionally make you ill to check for a specific bit of DNA. I looked up the other male patients the foundation has been home to in the past and they were in the same control group as you are in now," he explained. "I believe they are trying to isolate the gene that causes the disease."  
  
"That's not such a bad thing," Joe said. "You have to know what causes something before you can find out how to stop it," he reasoned. "Of course, it won't work for them since I really am not sick."  
  
"It's bad when they purposefully increase the severity of the disease to the expense of someone's life," Fenton told him, not commenting on Joe's last statement because he still wasn't convinced Joe wasn't sick to some point.  
  
Fenton hugged Joe tight once again. "I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said. "A specialized hospital is a good concept but the people here are using the patients as guinea pigs and that has to stop."  
  
"So you aren't mad at me?" Joe asked hopefully.  
  
"No, I'm not mad at you," Fenton answered somberly. "But you do know you went about this the wrong way?"  
  
"It was the only way I could think of to get in," Joe said.  
  
"Endangering yourself for a case is never a viable option," Fenton told him sternly. "If you ever feel something needs to be checked out, I want you to promise to discuss it with me. Even if I disagree with you, I will listen and offer you options that you can follow if you can't think of anything yourself. Okay?"  
  
"Okay," Joe promised with a wan smile. "Am I still going to get punished?"  
  
"Expecting it, were you?" inquired Fenton, a bit relieved because he now knew that Joe had known all along what he was doing was wrong which meant he might actually not be sick.  
  
"I kind of figured you and mom wouldn't be too happy with me when you found out," Joe confessed.  
  
"You're right about that," concurred Fenton. "But we will save the punishment until the drugs they have been giving you are out of your system and you are a bit healthier."  
  
"Something to look forward to, oh joy," Joe said sarcastically but his smile let his dad know it didn't really bother him. 


	23. Chapter 23

"May I help you?" asked the nurse at the front station when Laura arrived at the foundation.  
  
"Yes," Laura replied with a smile that never reached her eyes. "I am here to pick up my son," she said.  
  
"Tell me his name and I will have him paged," the nurse said, smiling at the pretty blond in front of her.  
  
"Joe Hardy," Laura answered.  
  
The nurse looked startled. "Is something wrong?" Laura asked with saccharin sweetness.  
  
"I..I'm sorry," apologized the winsome brunette. "I thought your son was an orderly. Not a patient."  
  
"Is that a problem?" Laura asked.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," answered the nurse. "Patients aren't allowed to leave the grounds."  
  
"Then there is no problem," Laura returned. "I am removing him from the foundation permanently. He will no longer be a patient."  
  
"Um...I think I had better page Mr. Lyman," the nurse said, reaching for the button on the intercom.  
  
*******************************************************************  
  
"Sounds like your mother might be here," Fenton said to Joe with a smile as he heard the nervousness in the nurse's voice as she requested Lyman's presence at the front desk. Joe grinned. "I'll head on down and make sure there are no problems," Fenton continued, kissing Joe's forehead as he stood up.  
  
"Dad," Joe's voice stopped his father as his hand touched the knob on the door. Fenton turned to look at his son questioningly. "Thanks."  
  
"Anytime, Son," Fenton replied with a smile before leaving. He made his way down to the front desk as Lyman was trying to explain why Laura shouldn't consider removing Joe from the grounds.  
  
"Mrs. Hardy, please try to understand," Lyman begged. "Joe needs the help we are providing for him here. He would never have been admitted if he weren't in dire need of outside intervention."  
  
"Mr. Lyman," Laura's voice came out firm as she stood glaring at him with both hands placed against her hips; a stance Fenton recognized only too well. His wife was going to get her way come hell or high water. Lyman just wasn't able to recognize how far Laura would go to have her own way. "I want my son. Now."  
  
"You and your husband signed his admittance forms," Lyman reminded her. "You both agreed to leave him in our care until his health improved."  
  
"We have changed our minds," Laura stated. "I want my son and I want him now," she repeated, dropping her hands and taking a step closer to Lyman with her chin jutting out.  
  
"I'm afraid that isn't possible," Lyman denied nervously. He was beginning to realize the petite woman in front of him was no pushover.  
  
"If it is the money you are worried about we are not asking for a refund," she informed him cattily. "We simply want our son at home."  
  
"It isn't the money," Lyman denied with real sincerity. "Joe is beginning to make progress. If you remove him now you will be doing more damage than good. Surely, you only want what is best for your son?"  
  
Fenton came forward, ready to interfere on Laura's behalf but she preempted him with her next few words.  
  
"Joseph is my son," she stated. "I want him released into my custody or I will call not only the police but also every form of media in the tri-state area."  
  
Trying hard to keep from showing his amusement at the terrified look on Lyman's face, Fenton stepped forward. "Is there a problem?" he asked Lyman, giving Laura a surreptitious wink.  
  
"No. No. Of course not," Lyman stated quickly.  
  
"Yes, there is," Laura countered. "These people," she said contemptuously, "refuse to let me have my son."  
  
"Indeed?" inquired Fenton, lifting a brow as he stared haughtily at the chief administrator. "I wasn't under the impression this facility was a prison."  
  
"It's not!" refuted Lyman hotly. "It's just that there is protocol to be followed. You understand? Joe is under treatment and taking him off of it could be detrimental to his recovery."  
  
"Surely that is for his parents to decide?" Fenton asked. "If the lady feels her son would be better cared for at home then this foundation doesn't have the right to prevent her from withdrawing him. Or have I missed something?"  
  
"No. No," Lyman said quickly, giving Laura a quick smile. "I will see to Joe's release immediately. If you will just have a seat, I will prepare his discharge papers."  
  
"Thank you," Laura replied icily.  
  
"Shall I go with you?" Fenton asked Lyman.  
  
"If you wish," Lyman answered stiffly. He turned to the nurse and whispered something that Fenton was unable to hear.  
  
"Let Holden know Joe Hardy is being released in thirty minutes," Lyman whispered before turning around again.  
  
"I will have Joe here in a few minutes," Lyman promised Laura as she took a seat that Rimes had brought from a room down the hall.  
  
"For Joe, I would say this is a good thing," Rimes muttered to Fenton as he started to follow Lyman. Fenton never acknowledged the comment although he agreed wholeheartedly.  
  
****************************************************************  
  
Fenton accompanied Lyman to his office and looked around as Lyman gathered the discharge papers. When they were ready for Laura's signature, he followed Lyman down the hall to pick Joe up. Dr. Holden was just leaving.  
  
"Is there a problem?" inquired Fenton.  
  
"No," Dr. Holden answered. "I just like to give the patients a final physical before they are released." He looked at Lyman. "He is all ready to leave," he informed the man. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have another patient to examine."  
  
Lyman led the way into Joe's room after Holden departed. Fenton stood in the doorway frozen with shock as he looked at his son who less than an hour before had been a complete wreck.  
  
"Well, Joe," Lyman said. "Your mother is here to take you home."  
  
Joe sat fully dressed on his bed staring straight ahead. His blue eyes were blank as Lyman took his elbow and eased him to his feet.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" demanded Fenton, hoping the abnormal pounding of his heart could not be heard.  
  
"Nothing," Lyman answered a bit too cheerfully. "Well, except for the anorexia of course. Are you ready to go home, Joseph?" he asked, looking Joe in the eyes.  
  
Joe blinked but never said anything. "Come along then," Lyman urged, leading Joe to the door where Fenton managed to pull himself together and step aside but not before looking into Joe's eyes and seeing no sign of recognition. 


	24. Chapter 24

Frank crawled out of bed and made his way into the bathroom to shave, shower, change and brush his teeth. He stared at his reflection groggily when he had finished. He couldn't remember the last time he had been up all night but he was positive it hadn't been as boring as the last four hours of his shift had been.  
  
'Oh well,' he thought with a shrug as he turned away from the mirror. 'Maybe some coffee will bring me back to life.' He went downstairs, aware the quiet wasn't natural, and into the kitchen where he stopped in front of the small bulletin board that hung near the phone.  
  
'Ah!' he thought, smiling. 'Mom left a note. I knew she wasn't here.' His smile vanished as he read what she had written. He scowled, wondering what they had done to Joe to make his Dad want him brought home immediately. Frank wasn't sure what had happened to Charity's niece but the senior staff had some major answering to do in regard to his little brother.  
  
Frank looked at his watch and back to the time his mother had put on the note. She wouldn't have had time to pick him up and return home yet. He entered the kitchen and started a pot of coffee then set about fixing himself a sandwich. Not exactly breakfast food, he knew, but then it wasn't exactly the time of day for breakfast either.  
  
After finishing his meal he cleared his dishes and went into the living room where he checked his watch once again before picking up the phone. He dialed Callie's cell knowing she left it in her car while she was in school.  
  
"Hello?" Callie answered on the second ring.  
  
"Hey, Babe," Frank said in his silky voice. "How was school?"  
  
"Uneventful," returned Callie. "How's Joe?"  
  
"He's coming home," answered Frank. "Mom left to get him before I got up."  
  
"The case is solved?" she asked, pleased.  
  
"No," denied Frank. "But they have been doing something to Joe to make him worse," he added. "Dad called and told mom to get him out of there now."  
  
"Um, Frank," Callie said hesitantly. "Are you sure Joe isn't really sick?" she asked. "I mean, maybe it started out with him wanting to go in undercover but what if he can't stop now? What if he pretended to be sick so long that he actually developed anorexia?" she repeated the question that Vanessa had been fretting over for days.  
  
"It's possible, I guess," admitted Frank with a frown. "But even if he is, they aren't helping him there."  
  
"They haven't had time," Callie said softly.  
  
"No, you don't understand," Frank said, shaking his head even though she wasn't around to see. "When I saw Joe last night he was a basket case because the psychiatrist was filling his head with lies."  
  
"Like what?" Callie asked, still unsure if Joe were really sick or not. Maybe the doctor was just dragging Joe's real feelings to the surface.  
  
"Like I didn't want Joe around," Frank stated, his anger coming across loud and clear. "That creep made Joe think I didn't want to be around him. He had Joe thinking I would rather spend time with Phil than with him. He had convinced Joe that Phil was my best friend."  
  
"I thought Phil was your best friend," Callie said in confusion.  
  
"No, Callie," Frank told her. "Joe's my best friend. He always has been and he always will be."  
  
"Well, yeah, but he doesn't count," Callie pointed out. "He's your brother."  
  
"That's just it," Frank told her. "He does count. Turner was trying to convince him that he had no place in my life"  
  
"Oh," Callie gasped, finally understanding what Frank was saying. "Poor Joe! He wasn't buying into that, did he?"  
  
"He was," acknowledged Frank. "But I convinced him he was wrong." 'Or at least I think I did,' he added silently.  
  
"When will he be home?" Callie asked.  
  
"He should be back within an hour," answered Frank. "Why?"  
  
"I thought I would get Vanessa and the guys and come over," she said. "It sounds like Joe needs to know people care about him."  
  
"That's a great idea!" enthused Frank. "Especially with me having to leave for work so soon. Thanks!"  
  
"No thanks necessary," Callie assured him. "You know I love Joe like a brother. Although," she amended, "not one as close as you."  
  
"I'll see you later," Frank said. "I love you."  
  
"Love you too," she told him before hanging up.  
  
********************************************************  
  
"What have you done to him?" Laura demanded, shock mingling with anger when she saw how zoned out Joe was.  
  
"He was a little upset earlier so Dr. Holden gave him a light sedative," Lyman informed her. "You shouldn't have any problem getting him home."  
  
"Home nothing," snarled Laura. "He's going to see his doctor."  
  
"An excellent suggestion," agreed Fenton although Lyman looked at Fenton smugly. Fenton could tell Lyman thought he was agreeing with Laura fastidiously.  
  
Laura led Joe outside and into the passenger side of her car. She buckled him in while he sat quietly then got in behind the wheel and started the car. She kept glancing at him nervously as she pulled out of the lot and onto the road.  
  
"Joe, honey?" Laura tried to get some kind of response but he just kept staring out the window.  
  
Trying to keep her fear under control, she headed back to Bayport. Almost an hour later she pulled to a stop in front of Dr. Bates' office. "Okay, baby," she said, undoing her belt buckle. "I am going to get you out of the car and let Dr. Bates look you over. Then we will go home," she promised. "You will feel much better once you are back in your own room."  
  
Laura opened her door and got out. She hurried around to Joe's door and pulled it open. As she started to lean in and unfasten Joe's belt, a hand clamped over her mouth and she was yanked back. She felt something pierce her arm and seconds later her eyes closed as she was lowered to the ground. 


	25. Chapter 25

"Hi, where's Joe?" asked Vanessa when she, Callie, Tony, Biff, Chet and Phil arrived at the Hardy home a little later that afternoon.  
  
"They haven't gotten home yet," Frank answered a little concerned because he had expected them back by now.  
  
The phone rang as the group of teens migrated to the living room. "Maybe that's your mom," suggested Chet as Frank lifted the receiver.  
  
Frank was quite as the caller spoke but his face paled and his hand gripped the receiver until his knuckles protruded white. "Are you sure she's all right?" he asked the caller. "Yes, I will be there as soon as I can," he promised and hung up.  
  
"What's wrong?" demanded everyone at once.  
  
"Mom was found lying on the ground by her car," Frank informed them. "She was drugged but is okay. She was alone," he added after a slight pause.  
  
"But..." Vanessa started but Frank shook his head.  
  
"I don't know about Joe," he said. "The nurse said mom was still unconscious but could come home. The police have been notified and I'll probably meet them there."  
  
"Go," Callie ordered him. "We'll wait here for your dad or Joe."  
  
"Thanks," Frank replied and left. He arrived at Dr. Bates office in just under fifteen minutes and saw the police had already arrived.  
  
"Frank, your mom's doing okay," Sergeant Con Riley said, coming over to meet Frank as he got out of the van. "Her purse was lying on the floor of the passenger side so it doesn't look like she was attacked because of that. But then a robber wouldn't have injected her with a sedative either," continued Con. "Any idea what is going on?"  
  
"What about Joe?" asked Frank in reply. He knew the answer but he had to ask.  
  
"Joe?" repeated Con in surprise. "Isn't he in the Wesley Foundation?"  
  
"Mom picked him up," Frank said. "I think she may have been bringing him to Dr. Bates for a check-up but she was drugged and he was taken before they made it inside."  
  
"I'll have dispatch verify she did pick him up before we write this up as a kidnapping," said Con. "The doctor said she would probably sleep for a few hours."  
  
Frank nodded. "I'll go inside and check on her," he said. "Con," Frank continued before he could leave. "It was probably someone from the foundation who took Joe. Dad will come to the station when he gets in."  
  
Con nodded his understanding and returned to Mrs. Hardy's vehicle where the Forensics officer was still gathering evidence.  
  
"How's mom?" Frank asked Dr. Bates when he entered the building and was told to go on back.  
  
"She's fine," Dr. Bates informed Frank. "She was given a light sedative. Fortunately, the syringe was left near her body. I'm afraid I may have destroyed evidence by picking it up and running a couple of tests on it to see what was in it but I was more concerned with your mother than the culprit."  
  
"We wouldn't want it any other way," Frank assured him.  
  
"I don't know why Laura was here, though," Dr. Bates said looking at Frank curiously. "She didn't have an appointment."  
  
Frank's cell phone rang before he could answer. "Just a minute," apologized Frank, pulling it out.  
  
"Frank, your mother picked Joe up a little while ago," Fenton's voice came through. "They gave him depressants this morning and something else before he left," he continued. "I don't know what it was but it made him spaced out. He couldn't do much more than blink. Laura was taking him to see Dr. Bates on her way home so they should be a little late getting there."  
  
"Dad, I have some bad news," Frank said at this point and told him about the kidnapping.  
  
"Take your mother home," Fenton instructed him. "See if you can get Vanessa or Callie to stay with her then go on to work. I'm going to run by the police station and then head back to Edgewood. I don't know where they've taken your brother but my guess is it will either be the foundation or Holden's, Lyman's or Turner's home."  
  
"Okay," acknowledged Frank. "I'll see you there." He explained the situation to Dr. Bates who offered to get a wheelchair to roll Laura out. "That's okay," Frank declined the offer. "I can carry her."  
  
Outside, Con helped Frank get Laura into the van. "We're almost through with the car," he told Frank.  
  
"I'll get someone to bring me back for it," Frank said then told Con about the call he had just received from his father. A few minutes later he was on his way home, glad his friends were there waiting to help him.  
  
***  
  
Joe shivered and pulled the blankets closer around him. He had no idea where he was or what had happened after Dr. Holden had stopped in to give him a final physical before being released. He decided he must have passed out and been transferred to the Edgewood hospital because the room he was in smelled of antiseptic and it was clean and white but it was also bare except for the bed he was on and a cabinet in the corner.  
  
He did know, however, that he was freezing. This room was much cooler than the one he had been in and his clothes had been replaced with a flimsily gown that tied at the back leaving most of him exposed. He got up to try and leave but the door was locked so he got back under the two blankets he had been given. Even so, it had took a long time for his teeth to quit chattering.  
  
Joe had no idea how long he waited but eventually the door opened and Dr. Holden entered the room. "Wh..what happened?" stuttered Joe. "Did...did I pass out?"  
  
"Yes, you did," acknowledged Dr. Holden. "Your mother decided it would be better for you to remain in our care."  
  
Joe knew then that he was lying. "I..I'm, not...not in my room," Joe said.  
  
"No, we had to move you," Holden told him. "It seems you are sicker than when you first arrived," he explained. "Here, you will get specialized treatment."  
  
"How..how about a litt...little heat?" Joe begged through chattering teeth.  
  
"You're quite right," Holden stated, his face breaking into a concerned frown. "It is a bit cold in here." He checked the thermostat on the meter outside the door. "It says seventy-four degrees but it doesn't feel that warm. It must be broken. I will have you moved," he promised kindly. "You just stay there while I have someone prepare another room."  
  
As soon as Holden left, Joe got to his feet and moved to the door. He waited maybe sixty seconds before twisting the knob. To his surprise, the door opened but only because Dr. Holden was pulling it. "Going somewhere?" he asked, his voice deathly still.  
  
"I...I" Joe got no further. Holden grabbed Joe's arm and pulled him from the room and toward the elevator.  
  
"L...let go," Joe demanded, trying to pull free.  
  
"You aren't going anywhere," Holden told him firmly. "As long a you're a patient here..."  
  
"I....I'm not a...a patient here," Joe interrupted him with an air of defiance. "My...my mom would have ta..taken to a...a hospital."  
  
"Actually, she took you to a general practitioner in Bayport," Holden informed Joe. "Fortunately, we were able to get you back."  
  
"What?" Joe demanded in shock. His mom had gotten him out of here? Why didn't he remember? "Wh..where is she?"  
  
"She was left," Holden informed Joe. "I only gave orders to bring you back. However," he continued. "If you do not cooperate fully, I can guarantee you will never see her again."  
  
"You can't keep me here," Joe objected.  
  
"You're right about that," Holden replied. "As I was reminded when I requested another room for you. Your father is an investigator and undoubtably will have the foundation searched because that fool Lyman put up such a fuss about your leaving."  
  
"Then you might as...as well let me go," Joe pointed out.  
  
"No, dear boy," Holden denied with a shake of his head. "You are a very special boy and are important to my research."  
  
"My...my dad will find me," Joe said bravely.  
  
"If you were to remain here, maybe," agreed Holden. "But my colleague and I have a place where we can do our research without interference. That is where you are going."  
  
"When?" Joe asked fearfully as the elevator came to a stop.   
  
"Now." 


	26. Chapter 26

Frank arrived at the foundation less than ten minutes before he was due to clock in. He entered the building wondering where they could hide Joe without being caught or if, perhaps, all the staff were involved. He picked up his instructions then began looking around. Every chance he got he would check locked rooms to make sure someone's chart hadn't been switched with Joe's. As the night wore on, he grew more concerned that Joe wasn't at the facility. Not because he had looked everywhere because there were two wings he hadn't checked yet, but because both Dr. Turner and Dr. Holden were nowhere around.   
  
Frank looked in relief at the man who entered the main hall a little later. Now, perhaps, things could move a bit faster. "Mr. Poe," Nurse Rhodes greeted Fenton. "We weren't expecting you back today. I'm afraid Mr. Lyman has already left."  
  
"Good," replied Fenton. "Perhaps now I can see how this place is really run," he said, surprising the nurse. "I would like to suggest that he not become aware of my presence here this evening or you might find it wise to peruse the want ads," Fenton added.  
  
"I...I couldn't reach Mr. Lyman anyway," Nurse Rhodes replied with a mixture of affront and fear. "He wasn't going straight home."  
  
"Very good," Fenton said and continued down the hall wondering where Lyman was going after work.  
  
"No sign of Joe," Frank whispered when his dad reached him. "Holden and Turner left early," he continued. "Yesterday I was told they generally stayed late but today one of the other orderlies told me she saw Dr. Turner leaving around three."  
  
"I'm wondering were Lyman was headed," Frank said when Frank had finished his report. "If he wasn't headed straight home he may have gone to wherever they took Joe. See if you can arrange a plumbing catastrophe that would require Lyman's attention," he continued. "I bet that nurse could reach him in an instant. Since Turner is gone," Fenton continued, "I'm going to sneak into his office. That's the one place I haven't been able to search."  
  
***  
  
Joe was given a blanket to put around him and then hustled out of the building and to an Elantra in the employee parking lot. In Joe's current physical condition, Holden had no problem keeping him captive but the two waited in the car until they were joined by Dr. Turner and Todd Graves, an orderly who apparently didn't mind helping with jobs that were less than ethical.  
  
"What about Jerry?" Todd asked, looking at Holden. It had been he and Jerry who had drugged Mrs. Hardy and returned Joe to the facility. Todd was a bit worried that if Jerry got left behind to take the blame then he would be next.  
  
"Jerry left a short time ago," Holden answered. "I had him take some of our research to our impromptu lab."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" asked Joe, feeling warmer now with so many bodies putting out heat all around him. "You won't be able to use your research on me without exposing yourselves as kidnappers."  
  
"Not exactly," Holden disagreed. "You see, we are very close to a breakthrough. We have already narrowed the gene down among the female patients but now that we have you, we can see which gene you possess is the same or at least almost identical, to one of the ones the girls possessed."  
  
"You could have done that at the foundation," Joe pointed out.  
  
"Indeed," agreed Turner. "And if your mother hadn't decided to remove you from our care, we would have."  
  
"There will be other male patients," Joe said.  
  
"True, but you have been doing so well that we couldn't afford to let you go," Turner answered.   
  
"But I haven't been doing well," Joe objected. "I'm still losing weight."  
  
"Exactly," Holden said. "If you were to start getting better then it's possible the gene could be altered. We can't have that. We need it as it is now."  
  
"So you want me to stay sick until I die?" demanded Joe in disbelief. They were doing research to save people but didn't care if they killed people in the process?  
  
"I'm sorry," Dr. Holden told him. "But what do you care? We're going to let you get thin."  
  
"I don't want to lose anymore weight," Joe insisted.  
  
"And why not?" demanded Turner. "Do you honestly think getting fat again will help you retain the attention you've been getting from your family?"  
  
"They love me!" Joe shouted, not falling for Turner's ploy this time.  
  
Turner looked over at Holden who shrugged. "We'll start him back on the depressants when we get there."  
  
"Why did you kill Crystal Lane?" asked Joe.  
  
"Crystal?" Todd asked in surprise. "They didn't kill her. She started puking and couldn't stop."  
  
"But they caused her death," Joe stated. "She was getting better. She was going to be released."  
  
"Yes, she was," agreed Holden. "She was given free reign of the foundation except for the restricted areas which, unfortunately, she chose to explore anyway. She found my notes of Thomas Kincaid , the last male patient we had. She found out Thomas died because he was in the control group where we keep the patients ill."  
  
"We caught her and she threatened to expose us," Turner picked up. "She left us no choice but to eliminate her."  
  
"I know what's going on," Joe reminded them quietly.  
  
"But she was physically well," Holden said. "You aren't. She had no more value to our research. You do."  
  
"I'm not anorexic," Joe told them. "I only lost the weight so I could pretend to be ill and get admitted to the foundation. My job was to find out what happened to Crystal."  
  
Todd licked his lips nervously. "Perhaps we should just get rid of him now," he suggested.  
  
"Relax," Turner ordered him. "He's lying. No parent would let their child do that to himself for a mystery."  
  
"And no sane person would consider doing that to themselves for that matter," Holden added.  
  
"Besides, even if it started out that way, he has become anorexic. You should have been in on his therapy. This kid is really messed up," Turner said.  
  
"No, I'm not!" Joe denied hotly.  
  
"Really?" Turner retorted mockingly. "Then why are you trying to convince us you aren't sick when it means dying if we believed you?" 


	27. Chapter 27

"Have the plumbers arrived yet?" Lyman demanded in an irritated voice when he entered the foundation later that night.  
  
"No," Nurse Rhodes answered then quickly looked over her shoulder to where Fenton was looking through one of the files.  
  
"You alerted Mr. Poe?" Lyman demanded in outrage.  
  
"No, Sir," the nurse quickly denied. "He showed up here after you left and refused to allow me to call you. He said he wanted to inspect the foundation without your presence,"  
  
"Great," Lyman mumbled, shaking his head. "Whatever. How bad is the damage?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"The pipes in the east wing?" Lyman questioned.  
  
"Oh. Two rooms are completely water logged and it's still flooding," the nurse told him. "Fortunately, that section of the wing is currently empty."  
  
"Thank God for small favors," Lyman said with a wan smile. "Call the plumbers again and see how much longer it will be," he instructed.  
  
"Yes, Sir," acknowledged the nurse.  
  
"Mr. Poe," Lyman greeted Fenton, going over to where he stood. "I did not realize you intended to return this evening."  
  
"I chose to do a little delving on my own," Fenton stated. "I understand there is a problem with the plumbing?"  
  
"So it seems," Lyman agreed. "Mr. Poe, may I be blunt?"  
  
"Please."  
  
"I do not know why you chose to return after my absence and I suppose it doesn't matter," Lyman began. "But I want to state one thing for the record: I have given my full cooperation and have denied you access to nothing. This entire foundation is open for your inspection at any time and my presence is not mandatory. I was merely being courteous in helping you. You have no need to sneak around when I am gone. You have merely to say so and I will gladly take a day off to allow you your discretion."  
  
"Mr. Lyman, where were you this evening?" Fenton asked.  
  
"My private life does not enter into this," Lyman stated firmly.  
  
"In the inspection, no," agreed Fenton. "But into the murder of one, possibly more, patients, then it does."  
  
"What?" gasped Lyman, his face riddled with shock.  
  
"Your facility is conducting unethical experiments on its patients," Fenton informed him, watching his reaction closely.  
  
"Wha.." Lyman couldn't get his words out. With eyes bulging and mouth hanging open, he grabbed the desk for support.  
  
"You have no idea?" asked Fenton.  
  
"Tha...that's not possible," Lyman said.  
  
"The patients' folders all are labeled with two identifying marks," said Fenton. "The first is a number and the second is a letter. The code is used to identify which control group the patient is in."  
  
"The...the control numbers do have something to do with research," Lyman admitted. "We are a research facility," he reminded him. "Dr. Holden and Dr. Turner came up with the system to identify which patients are in need of a more stringent regime. But I assure you," he added, "there is nothing unethical going on here."  
  
"Then you believe it is ethical to give depressants to a patient with severe anorexia?" accused Fenton.  
  
"Absolutely not!" Lyman declared angrily.  
  
"And yet, Joe Hardy was given them this morning," Fenton informed him, his own anger greater than Lyman's although a bit more concealed.  
  
"You must be mistaken," Lyman insisted so strongly that Fenton was starting to believe him.  
  
"Am I?" pushed Fenton. "Am I also mistaken in believing that you stalled as long as possible this morning when Mrs. Hardy desired to pick up her son? Stalled long enough, in fact, for Dr. Holden to pay Joe another visit?"  
  
"Okay, I did," Lyman confessed. "But only so Dr. Holden could give Joe a final physical. He and his brother have done a lot to help people and I didn't want him leaving without making sure he was no worse than when he arrived. He doesn't deserve this."  
  
"And the other patients do?" inquired Fenton.  
  
"Of course not!" Lyman denied. "But, well, I owe Joe and Frank," he ended lamely, not noticing the look of shocked disbelief that flitted across Fenton's face.  
  
"How?" demanded Fenton.  
  
"Awhile back there was a hypnotist that managed to frame some youths for various crimes," Lyman informed him. "My son was one of those kids. The Hardy boys proved it was the hypnotist behind the thefts and my son was released."  
  
"So you really wouldn't do anything to hurt Joe Hardy?" Fenton asked, believing the man was sincere.  
  
"Of course not," Lyman answered. "Why are you so interested in Joe anyway?" he asked, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.  
  
"First, tell me about Crystal Lane," Fenton said. "How did she die?"  
  
"She..she committed suicide," Lyman answered, his perplexity still obvious.  
  
"How?"  
  
"She broke into Dr. Holden's office and stole some amphetamines," Lyman answered.  
  
"Amphetamines?" queried Fenton. "All the patients here have a problem with weight loss. Why would Holden even have them?"  
  
"I...I hadn't thought about that," a stupefied Lyman stuttered.  
  
"You have no idea what's going on here, do you?" inquired Fenton.  
  
Lyman opened his mouth to protest but his words weren't what he had planned. "What is going on here?" he asked. "Who are you? Really? What's your interest in Joe and Crystal?"  
  
"I'm Joe's father," Fenton answered.  
  
"Father? Fenton Hardy?" gasped Lyman. "But...why?"  
  
"Joe lost weight, without my consent or knowledge, so he could get in here and find out who murdered Crystal," Fenton informed him.  
  
"But she wasn't..." he began but broke off. "The amphetamines," he said dully.  
  
"I need all the information you have on Holden and Turner," Fenton told him. "They have taken Joe somewhere."  
  
"There are unused rooms here," Lyman said. "It is possible they put him in one of those."  
  
"We have already checked," Fenton said.  
  
"We?"  
  
"My eldest son, Frank, is working here as an orderly," Fenton said.  
  
"You have access to all of the files," Lyman said. "You should have both Holden's and Turner's addresses."  
  
"And I had both checked out," Fenton told him. "But neither address exists." 


	28. Chapter 28

Frank heard his father's announcement about Holden and Turner not having legitimate addresses and ran the rest of the way to his side. "Dad, two of the orderlies are missing as well," he said. "They were supposed to have gone off duty but Todd Graves and Jerry Seagram both left without clocking out. I caught Rimes as he was leaving. He said both of them left earlier today shortly after mom arrived to get Joe. He said he hasn't seen either of them since."  
  
"Get me their addresses," Fenton barked at Lyman. "Frank, call Chief Collig. Tell him to put up roadblocks and check all passengers for outgoing planes, trains and buses."  
  
***  
  
"Why are we slowing down?" Turner asked, peering ahead over the seat.  
  
"Roadblock," came the answer.  
  
"Blast it!" Holden snarled. "Turn around."  
  
"We can't go back to the foundation," Todd objected.  
  
"We aren't," Holden said. "We will take Joe to my place."  
  
"Won't the police search there if they think we're involved?" Todd demanded.  
  
"To begin with, there is no way we can be connected to Joe's abduction," Turner stated calmly. "Especially if we all continue our normal routines."  
  
"And second, Lyman doesn't have a clue where we live," Holden continued. "We gave him fictitious addresses in case he wanted to snoop around."  
  
"Lyman?" Todd asked with a derisive snort. "He's an idiot."  
  
"Yes, well," Turner concurred. "We didn't know that until after we had been at the foundation for a few weeks."  
  
"Don't you think giving a fake address might raise a red flag?" inquired Joe.  
  
Holden turned to look at Joe thoughtfully. "If it were just Lyman, no," he said. "But since your father is involved..." He broke off and looked at Turner. "He has a point. We won't be able to return to the foundation."  
  
"So? We'll continue at the lab just as soon as it's safe," Turner replied with a shrug. "We have more than enough data collected from the girls. Joe is all we need now."  
  
"But you won't be able to use your research," Joe pointed out. "Not if you're wanted for kidnapping and murder."  
  
"Not in the states, no," Holden agreed. "But there are other countries and they won't care about our patients' names. Just the data we have."  
  
Todd drove the group to the house Holden and Turner shared and helped get Joe and the research they had taken from the foundation inside. "I guess I had better get out of here before I'm missed," Todd said.  
  
"I'm sorry Mr. Graves," Holden said, pulling a revolver from his coat pocket and aiming it at the orderly. "You've turned into a liability," he added, squeezing the trigger.  
  
Joe flinched as the sound reverberated in the small room but remained still in Turner's grip.   
  
"I'll deal with this mess," Holden told Turner. "You take care of our guest."  
  
Turner hustled Joe up a set of stairs. "Are...aren't you a..afraid someone heard th...the shot?" asked Joe, starting to stutter once again because the house felt cold.  
  
"Our nearest neighbor is about three miles away," Turner answered, releasing Joe's arm and giving him a gentle push so that he fell to the bed.  
  
"If y...you l..let me g..go you wo..won't be in so...so much tr...trouble," Joe pleaded through teeth he couldn't keep from chattering.  
  
"Ah, but we would," Turner told him, pulling out a sweater from a drawer and tossing it at Joe.  
  
Joe pulled it on over his head. "As you already know," Turner continued as he checked to make sure Joe couldn't escape from the room, "we have already killed someone. Plus, the other male patients demise could be attributed to us."  
  
Turner turned back to face Joe. "As you can see, the window is too small for even you to climb through and the other door is only a closet. The way you came in is the only way out and it will be locked at all times. I suggest you get under the cover because this room really doesn't get a lot of sun. But," he continued, "I will see about getting you an electric heater."  
  
Joe watched as Turner left the room then got up and looked over his prison. Turner was right. There was no way out. However, Joe did discover some more clothing in the closet and donned a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants in addition to the clothing he already had on. Feeling a bit warmer, he sat back down on the bed as the door opened.  
  
"Time for your medication," Turner said, entering the room.  
  
"You're off your rocker if you think I'm taking anything," Joe snarled with a look of defiance.  
  
"I didn't think you would acquiesce," Turner said, smiling. "That's why we will begin with an injection." He held up a syringe he had already prepared.  
  
Joe's eyes dimmed and his chin quivered but he still intended to put up a fight when Turner came closer.  
  
"Tsk, tsk," Holden said, entering the room. "Joseph, you know it doesn't pay to refuse." He took the syringe from Turner so Turner could hold Joe.  
  
Realizing how futile and, possibly painful, resisting would be, Joe sat still with his lips clamped together in anger as Holden put a moist cotton ball to his arm then inserted the needle.  
  
It didn't take long for the shot to take effect. Before their eyes, Joe's frame seemed to shrink as he lay down and curled into a ball.  
  
"Rest, Joe," Turner told him, pulling the spread around the youth. "Later, we will talk about why your brother prefers to spend time with Phil and Callie instead of you." Turner smiled as tears began falling down Joe's cheeks and he followed Holden from the room and locked Joe inside.  
  
"We need to drop Graves' body in the bay," Holden said. "When we get back we can continue our research on the boy." 


	29. Chapter 29

"What's taking so long?" demanded Laura jumping from the sofa and starting to pace.  
  
"Mrs. Hardy, please?" begged Vanessa, rushing to her side and leading her back to the sofa. "You have to take it easy," she reminded her. "At least until tomorrow."  
  
"She's right," Callie concurred, moving in on Laura's other side. "We don't know what kind of drug they used on you. It might have side effects."  
  
"Pshaw!" Laura poopooed the notion although she did sit back down with the girls. "If there had been any danger I would have been sent to the hospital."  
  
"Mom!" Frank called out, entering the house with his dad at that moment.  
  
"Thank goodness!" breathed Laura, leaping to her feet once again and hurrying to the front door with the girls right behind her.  
  
"Joe?" Laura asked fearfully when she didn't see him.  
  
"He hasn't turned up yet," Fenton said, taking her into his arms and holding her.  
  
"Any leads?" asked Vanessa as the group returned to the living room.  
  
"Not much," Frank replied, running a hand through his hair. "Turner's address and Holden's were fakes but two of the orderlies, who we think might be involved in the kidnapping, are missing. Chief Collig has their homes under surveillance."  
  
"What about Lyman?" demanded Laura. "That horrid man has to know where my baby is."  
  
"I don't think so," Fenton said, shaking his head. He told Laura and the girls about his conversation with Lyman. "While Frank was contacting Collig and Lyman was looking for Graves and Seagram, I did a little check. Lyman's son was one of the victims of the hypnotist the boys put away this past year."  
  
"There has to be something you can do," Laura insisted.  
  
"Right now, all we can do is wait for one of them to turn up."  
  
***  
  
"Hello, Joseph," said Holden, entering Joe's room later. "It's time for your physical."  
  
Joe never moved. He remained curled up in the ball he had been in when Turner and Holden had left him almost two hours earlier.  
  
Holden moved to Joe's bed and pulled the spread off of him. Joe began shivering as the added warmth was removed without warning. Holden took hold of Joe's arm and pulled him to a sitting position. "Come along, now," Holden said. "Jack's fixing dinner so we need to get you checked out before it's done."  
  
"You..you're going to fe..feed me?" asked Joe, his words slow.  
  
"Of course," Holden answered. "But we are no longer under the restraints of the foundation's regulations so you only have to eat what you want too."  
  
Joe remained quiet while Holden gave him his physical. When it was over and he had been weighed and given his evening's medication, he accompanied Holden out of the room and back down the stairs through the living room and down a short hallway into the kitchen where three places had been set at a small table.  
  
Joe's stomach churned as Turner set a plate laden with potato chips and a Dogwood style sandwich in front of Holden. A matching entree was set at Turner's seat and then a small salad made with lettuce, tomato and carrot strips was set in front of him. There was no salad dressing but it didn't matter...he wasn't really hungry.  
  
Joe picked up his fork and moved the food around, separating the different items into little piles. He took a deep breath and took a bite of the lettuce. As expected, it had a twangy taste. His own saliva had tasted like metal for some time and he realized it was probably his medication causing the effect.  
  
He chewed slowly and swallowed, his face contorting unintentionally as he imagined the bits floating down his throat only to land in the empty cavity of his stomach with a thud. He knew they didn't want him to eat. but he also knew that unless he did he would never get well enough to escape. He took another bite, chewing a little faster.  
  
If only he could get to a phone! He could call home and have his dad trace the number. As he fought down another bite, he knew it was his only chance. But how was he going to get out of his room to get near a phone?  
  
Joe ate a little more but put his fork down before even a third of the salad was gone. He had eaten all he could. He wanted to eat more. He just couldn't do it. He looked at the salad sadly, hoping it was the pills he had just been given that had sent his appetite away.  
  
Turner and Holden finished their meal in silence. When they were done, Holden stood up. "I'll take care of the dishes," he volunteered.  
  
"Excellent," Turner replied with a smile as he looked at Joe. "Joe and I will go ahead and begin our session now."  
  
"Forget it," Joe told him with as much force as he could muster. "I'm not helping you."  
  
"Of course not," Turner agreed. "It's my job to help you."  
  
Joe snorted and shook his head. "You don't have a choice," Holden stated before moving away from the table.  
  
Turner stood up, moved to Joe's side and pulled him to his feet. "Come along," he instructed. "We can do this in the living room."  
  
Turner released Joe in front of the sofa then sat down in the armchair to Joe's right. "Sit down," he ordered Joe who was still standing.  
  
Joe scanned the room, his eyes lingering for only a split second on the telephone near the window before turning back to Turner. With a scowl, Joe sat down. He might have to be there but there was no way he would talk. 'Let's see him turn my words against me when I don't give him any ammunition,' Joe thought smugly.  
  
"Where shall we begin today?" Turner asked. Joe sat still, his gaze locked on his own reflection on the screen of the television.  
  
Turner's lips twitched in silent amusement. Joe obviously thought silence would help him avoid the session. "Joe, I think we should start with the deteriorating relationship between you and your brother," Turner said, his eyes narrowing in contentment as he observed the agitated jerk in Joe's jaw.  
  
"Obviously, you aren't as important to him as you once were," Turner continued. "I mean, where was he when your mother came to pick you up? Was he in the car waiting?" Turner paused. "No, he was at home or, perhaps, at school?"  
  
"No," Joe denied, unable to stop himself from defending his brother. "He was there."  
  
"You don't know," Turner reminded him. "You can't remember. But," he stressed the word. "But Graves and Seagram were there. They took you from the passenger seat of your mother's car. They only had to drug one person to do it: your mother. No one else was there. Not your brother. Not your friends. Not even your father."  
  
"They were...were busy," Joe stuttered, starting to get upset.  
  
Turner pushed on, aware the depressants were helping to make Joe more insecure than he already was. "Too busy for you," he said. "Just like they were too busy this summer to notice how sick you were getting."  
  
Joe paled. "I...I feel sick," he said. "Can...can I go...go to the bathroom, please?" he asked, a single tear trickling down his cheek.  
  
"Of course," Turner agreed. "Come along," he added standing up. He led Joe out of the living room and down the hallway to a large bathroom. Joe went inside and opened the toilet. As Joe began retching Turner closed the door to give him some privacy and hurried down the hall to the kitchen.  
  
"Are you sure we can separate the presence of the depressants when we dissect his genes?" Turner asked Holden.  
  
"Of course," Holden answered. "The process is very precise. Are you done already?" he asked, surprised to see Turner so soon.  
  
"Joe got sick," Turner answered. "But I suppose I had better get back to him."  
  
***  
  
"I'm going to call the station," Fenton said as dinnertime rolled around. "Maybe we can at least get a warrant to search Graves' and Seagram's residences."  
  
"Without cause?" Frank asked. "Just because they're gone doesn't mean they had anything to do with the crime," he added, mimicking Chief Collig's voice perfectly. "You know they will say that. Let's just go and sneak in," he suggested instead.  
  
Before Fenton could respond, the phone rang. Laura reached it first. "Hello," she answered, gripping the receiver tight , her eyes widening as the voice came through on the other end.  
  
***  
  
Turner left the kitchen and returned to the bathroom. He rapped on the door but got no response. Frowning, he pushed it open, expecting to see Joe lying on the floor but was shocked to see it empty. "Dean!" he shouted for Holden, racing toward the living room. He was certain Joe had to of left that way and he was equally certain Joe couldn't get far in his current condition.  
  
Turner reached the living room and crashed into Joe who fell to the floor, the phone's receiver leaving his hand to lie in the floor beside him. "What did you think you were doing?" Turner thundered, glaring at the youth that hadn't the energy to get up.  
  
Turner snatched the phone and put it to his ear. Smiling, he hung up. "Sorry, kid," he said. "Whoever you were trying to call should consider call waiting." 


	30. Chapter 30: Conclusion

Laura handed the phone to Fenton. "It's Chief Collig," she informed him. "He said he might have a lead."  
  
Fenton took the receiver and listened to what the chief had to say in silence. After a couple of minutes he spoke softly into the handset so that neither Laura nor Frank could hear him and then hung up. "Frank, let's go," he said, heading for the door at a run. He didn't want Laura to ask what the chief had told him.  
  
"Okay, what gives?" Frank asked once the two were in the car and on the highway.  
  
"They found Graves' body," Fenton answered in a grim tone. "A group of teenagers saw two men dump a sack into the river and take off. Two of the teens followed the vehicle while two others dove in after the sack."  
  
"Why do that?" Frank wondered. "I mean, surely Turner and Holden must know the body would float."  
  
"With the current, the body would be out to sea before it floated," Fenton answered. "You know the body has to bloat up before it will float."  
  
"What about the lead?" asked Frank.  
  
"The two teens followed the car to a cul-de-sac," Fenton answered. "Ezra said he already has the area surrounded. He's just waiting for us to get there before moving in."  
  
***  
  
"Get up," snarled Turner as Holden came running into the room.  
  
"Easy," Holden told Turner. "No harm done. It was your fault anyway for leaving him alone."  
  
Turner opened his mouth to argue but closed it again and gave a deep sigh. "You are right," he admitted. "I should have known better." He bent down and took Joe's arm and helped him to his feet.  
  
"Take him back to his room," Holden suggested. "You can finish your session there."  
  
Turner pulled Joe along with him as he made his way up the stairs and to the small room that served as Joe's prison. "Lie down," he instructed as he released Joe's arm. "You may as well be comfortable."  
  
"I don't want too," Joe declined stubbornly.  
  
"Suit yourself," Turner said, taking a seat in the solitary chair by the dresser. "Shall I begin again?" he asked. "Or do you wish to start the conversation?"  
  
"It doesn't matter," said Joe. "Everything you say is a lie."  
  
"I haven't lied to you," Turner denied solemnly. "I merely asked you questions to clarify what you were telling me. I am trying to help you."  
  
"No, you aren't," Joe retorted. "You don't want me to get well."  
  
"No, we don't," agreed Turner. "However, it is the genetics involved that concern our research. Your mental stability has no real effect in the research," he lied. "As a matter of fact," he continued. "In order to obtain, true, undiluted results, you need to get over the mental aspect of the disease. It's the physical aspect we are working on."  
  
"But it's a mental disease," Joe argued, his confusion evident in his features.  
  
"Only to a point," Turner said. He knew the drugs in Joe's system would wear down his resistance. He had only to keep Joe off balance for a little bit before he was once again a slab of clay to work with. "So you see, it is to our advantage to get you well mentally and we can't do that if you don't cooperate. And since you insist you want to be well then this works out for both of us although to different ends."  
  
"I...I guess," Joe stuttered, unable to think straight without his head hurting. He sank down onto the bed but did not lie down. "I..I want to..to get well."  
  
"Of course you do," Turner said in a soothing voice. "And I am going to help you. Why don't you lie back and we can begin?" he suggested again.  
  
This time, Joe did as he had been bidden. He stared at the ceiling without seeing it as Turner began to speak. Joe's mind wandered back to a time when he was younger, only four years old. His brother wanted to go on the roller coaster but he had been afraid. "He shouldn't have gone," Joe said in a small voice.  
  
"Who shouldn't have gone?" asked Turner, confused. He had been asking Joe about his mother but it was obvious that while Joe had heard him he had not been listening.  
  
"Frank," answered Joe. "He should have stayed with me. He knew I was afraid but he wanted to go anyway so Dad took him on the ride."  
  
"Why should he have stayed with you?" asked Turner.  
  
"Because if he hadn't gone on the ride then mom wouldn't have taken me into the funhouse," replied Joe, his tone innocent but exasperated. "Then I wouldn't have gotten kidnapped."  
  
"So it was Frank's fault you were kidnapped?" Turner asked.  
  
"Yes," Joe answered. "No. He didn't know," he defended Frank. "But if he hadn't wanted to ride the roller coaster then we would have gone on home."  
  
"You think your brother wanted you gone?" Turner asked.  
  
"No!" Joe denied vehemently. "Frank loves me. He takes care of me. He would never want me gone."  
  
"But it was his fault?" Turner pushed.  
  
"I...I guess so," Joe replied in a small voice. "I wanted to go home but he wanted Dad to take him for one more ride."  
  
"And your Dad did so readily?" Turner inquired. Joe nodded. "Perhaps your father suspected something might happen," he suggested, causing Joe to look at him through fearful blue eyes that reminded him of a child. "Maybe your father saw this as an opportunity to get rid of the child who was turning out to be such a disappointment to him."  
  
"No," Joe whispered, tears streaming down his face. "No," he said again. "Daddy loves me."  
  
"He told you so?" Turner inquired. Joe nodded. "How often does he tell you that he loves you?"  
  
Joe's body started shaking as he realized that his dad rarely ever told him. Maybe his dad only told him he loved him when he did so Joe would do whatever his father wanted him to do.  
  
***  
  
"Have you seen him?" Fenton demanded of Collig when he and Frank arrived at the entrance to the cul-de-sac.  
  
"No," Collig admitted. "But Holden is in the living room watching television. We believe Turner is with Joe."  
  
"Then we have to get him out of there now," Frank demanded angrily. "That bastard has already done enough to hurt Joe."  
  
"We're ready," Collig stated.  
  
***  
  
"Oh, come on, Joe," Turner scoffed. "How can your father love you? How can your brother? How could anyone? Look at yourself," he ordered. "You said it yourself. You have to be taken care of. You can't take care of yourself. Why would anyone love you?"  
  
"Because he is a wonderful human being who loves and gives and cares," Fenton declared, striding through the open bedroom door with Frank, Collig and Officer Milhouse in tow.  
  
"And he's the best brother anyone could ever have," Frank put in looking into his brother's eyes as he sat up. "Without him, I might as well be dead. He gives my life meaning," Frank added.  
  
Frank sat down on the bed as the officer slapped a pair of cuffs onto Turner's wrists. He reached out and touched his brother's face in a loving caress. "You mean the world to me, Baby Brother. And no matter what that piece of scum, or anyone else, ever says, you are a great brother. You are not worthless or any of those other things he said you were. You bring joy into my life and you take care of me just as much as, if not more than, I take care of you."  
  
"No...no, I don...don't," Joe disagreed.  
  
"You do," Frank insisted. "In a different way. I may make sure you don't get hurt or killed but you make sure I never give up. And there have been plenty of times I wanted to give up but one look at your determined face and I knew I couldn't."  
  
"He's right, Son," said Fenton, sitting down on Joe's other side as Collig and Milhouse led Turner from the room. "You are like a breath of sunshine. Just seeing you smile makes me the happiest father in the world. I love you," he said.  
  
Joe looked at him with a hint of suspicion. "Re..really?" he asked softly.  
  
Fenton almost shouted in rage. That bastard had made Joe believe he didn't love him again! He took a quick, calming breath, afraid any show of anger might be detrimental to Joe's fragile psyche. He took Joe's chin in his hand and stared into Joe's eyes. "Really," Fenton stated firmly. "I know I may not say it enough, but never doubt it. You, your brother, and your mother are my world. You three are the reason I solve mysteries. I want the world to be a better place for you. And the way I help to make it better and safer is to put away bad guys like Holden and Turner."  
  
"I lo..love you too," Joe said, giving a tenuous smile.  
  
Fenton clasped Joe in his arms and squeezed him as tightly as he dared. "Your mother is worried out of her mind," he said. "What say I get you to the hospital and Frank can go and pick her up?"  
  
"You pick her up," Frank refused the suggestion with a scowl. "I want to stay with Joe."  
  
"I'll pick her up and bring her to the hospital," Collig said with a grin from the doorway. "There's an ambulance outside to take Joe," he continued. "Dispatch just let me know that Seagram confessed to his part in Joe's kidnapping and the goings on at the Foundation. He heard about Grave's death on the scanner."  
  
"They...they killed Graves," Joe put in.  
  
"We know," Collig said. "Holden is talking and, as it turns out, Turner kept very detailed notes. Must be a carryover from taking notes from his patients." He turned around. "I'll send the paramedics in."  
  
***  
  
Two weeks later Joe was released from the hospital. He had started eating slowly to his family's dismay but after being informed that Joe was eating very well for someone who had literally starved themselves for so long they felt a little better. After the first week, Joe was eating five small balanced meals a day and the drugs that Turner and Holden had given him were completely out of his system. One more week and his health had improved greatly although it would be awhile before he was his old self again.  
  
"Now that you are feeling better, it is time to discuss your punishment," Fenton said when they were all home and seated in the living room.  
  
"I know," Frank said glumly. "No more mysteries."  
  
"That is absolutely correct," Laura affirmed.  
  
"You can't do that," Joe objected. "I know what I did was wrong. Dad made me see that while I was in the foundation," he added. "But I was doing it to help."  
  
"Killing yourself isn't helping anyone," Laura stated.  
  
  
  
"I went about it the wrong way," Joe said. "I know that. And if I ever have a problem and I can't figure out a safe solution, I promise to ask Frank, or one of you," he added, looking from his mother to his father and back to his mom. "But you can't stop us from solving mysteries," he insisted.  
  
"And why not?" Laura demanded, ready to hear her son out even though she had no intention of giving in.  
  
"Because we do it for the same reason Dad does," Joe said. "To make the world a better place for the people we care about."  
  
Fenton smothered a laugh as Laura turned and glared at him. "Sorry, honey," he apologized. "I had to tell him the truth."  
  
"Fine," she gave in with a weary sigh. "But if you ever, and I mean EVER, do something as rash and stupid as what you did this summer there will be no more chances. You will never solve another mystery. You won't even be allowed to watch them on television or read a book about one. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Joe grinned. "I love you too, Mom," he said.  
  
End 


End file.
